


Broken Records

by lonelygallavich_addict



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Use, Gallavich, M/M, Multi, Other, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 103,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelygallavich_addict/pseuds/lonelygallavich_addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 3x12, Mickey's finally able to confess all the things to Ian he couldn't, back when he first had the chance; and in doing so, creates a sort of <i>harmonic</i> symphony between them. </p>
<p>But like all music, and all things in life, the <i>Record</i> can't be completed, it can't even be played...not if it's <b>Broken</b>.</p>
<p>A story of true love, complete trust, and dire consequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What The Fuck Is Love Anyway?

Ian had been home since yesterday night. After a mysterious tip came in that the “Phillip Gallagher” who had been in Combat training for the past week, was actually his younger brother named “Ian,” who had forged his way in, he was discharged and as a result, could never enlist again. It’s a normal afternoon at the Milkovich house. Svetlana had just left for her shift, leaving Mickey and Mandy at home alone. Mickey was in his room getting dressed having just taken a shower (he was avoiding his wife who’d woken up for “work,” and needed to get ready). Mandy was on the other side, approaching his closed door slowly, with a half-empty bottle of gin and one shot glass. She took a deep breath and then knocked on his door.

“Fuck you want?” Mickey asked in his usual way, as Mandy opened the door.

“Can we talk?” She asked, raising the liquor.

Mickey then motioned her over to where he’s sitting on his bed.

“Yeah, uh…somebody die?” He asked, knowing already what Mandy wanted to talk about.

Or _who_ she wanted to talk about at least.

“Ha, no! I wanna talk about Ian.” She said, as she sat down next to him.

“Uh, what about him?” He asked, uncomfortable as soon as she said his name.

“What was that the other day?” She inquired.

“Fuck you talking about?” He asked back, defensively.

Mandy played nice, imagining how shitty he must be feeling. But she was determined to talk to her brother, she knew he needed to talk to someone.  
  
“The day he told you he was leaving Mick, you didn’t have anything else to say to him?”

Mickey stood up from his bed, turned from Mandy, and began biting his bottom lip. Mandy opens the gin, pours a shot, and hands it to him. Mickey quickly drinks it down, and then three more after.

“Jesus what is that?” He asked, surprised his throat wasn’t on fire.

“New Amsterdam, exceptionally smooth.” She answered with a smile, proud of her choice of liquor. Mickey sat back down, feeling more at ease.  
  
“So did you?” Mandy asks.

“Did I what?” Mickey asked confused.

“…have anything else to say to Ian. You told him “don’t,” don’t what?”

Mickey looked at the floor embarrassed, he knew Mandy knew he was gay, but that didn’t mean he was anymore comfortable talking to her just because she was his sister. But he was also embarrassed because she was right, he was a fucking pussy for not speaking up when he had the chance.

“I mean…I just…I-” he stumbled until he couldn’t say anything more.

Mandy paused and then spoke,

“You don’t have to be scared Mickey, I’m not judging you.”

He felt judged.

“Fuck off, I don’t wanna talk no more.” He said standing up (again).

“You always get like this when it comes to him, but you’re gonna fucking talk to me. Here take another shot.”

He did as she commanded and then sat back down (again).

“Mickey, it’s me okay? It’s just you and me here, talk to me.”

Mickey nodded his head slightly and took another shot.

“So what did you want to tell him?”

Mickey paused and exhaled loudly. He was ready to talk.

“I just - I just wanted him to s-stay. To just don’t go.” He finally said. God, it was like pulling teeth with him.

“Okay, so why didn’t you?” Mandy asked plainly.

He paused for a moment.

“Because I’m a Fucking Pussy.”

They both laughed at him mocking Mandy’s words.

“Yeah, you are,” she said still laughing and then got serious, “but you could’ve stopped him from leaving in the first place.”

“I don’t know if I could’ve.” He said.

He hadn’t realized until now, but maybe that was the reason why he couldn’t finish his plea?

“He loves you, you know…” Mandy said looking down, playing with her thumbs.

Mickey didn’t respond.

“You love him?” She asked, looking up at him.

Mickey paused and then pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He takes one out and puts it between his lips.

“What the fuck is love anyway?” He asked, speaking with the cigarette still in his mouth, and then sparking it.

Then it was Mandy who paused, trying to word things right in her head.

“You think about him, even when he’s not around? Miss him when you know he’s about leave? Do you trust him? Would you do anything for him? Anything he asked? He make you nervous? Nervous in a good way? A nervous you look forward to-“

“Okay, okay enough. That shit sounds super gay!” Mickey said interrupting her.

He was really just uncomfortable because it was like she was in his head, describing exactly how he felt. Maybe he was in love?

“You know you’re gay right Mick?” She asked trying not to patronize him.

He wished he could punch her in the stomach, like he’d done Ian when he’d said almost the exact same thing.

“Fuck You!” He said after a moment.

“Whatever Mickey, you don’t have to admit it out loud, but seriously…he makes you happy, I can see it. And you make him happy too. So fuck how you feel and how anyone else fucking feels! He’s my best friend and your my brother, so stop being so stupid and fix it! Just tell him how you feel and fucking fix it, or you’re gonna lose him Mickey. He can’t wait forever you know.”

Mickey was almost in tears but would never let his little sister see him cry.

“I can’t just go scream “I Love You” to him though Mandy, you just don’t get it.” His voice cracked.

“Just go talk to him! If you gotta be drunk or high or whatever, just go talk! And I mean REALLY talk Mick, let him know you care. It’ll all work out, you just gotta go try…”

Mickey nodded as Mandy stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. She’d said all she could to try and help him.

“Thanks Mandy. I-I needed to talk to somebody.” He was overcome with a sense of relief.

Mandy turned and smiled.

“I know you did. I love you Mickey, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Mickey smiled a slight smile and she turned back to exit.

“Oh, but if you hurt my best friend again, I’ll cut your fucking face off…”

He nodded and chuckled. She smiled too,

“…but seriously, I’ll cut your fucking face off.”

To Be Continued…


	2. Don't Be A Fucking Pussy.

It’s 8:13pm and Mickey’s still drunk from the talk he had with Mandy an hour or two earlier. He’s dressed in dark blue jeans, a long green jacket, with a scarf wrapped around his neck. Walking through the couple inches of snow in his boots, headed towards N Wallace St., he’s got just one thing on his mind, “Don’t be a Fucking Pussy, Don’t be a Fucking Pussy, Don’t be a Fucking Pussy…” Once he arrived, he debated between the front and back door, ultimately deciding to use the front. Should he knock? Or ring the doorbell? How hard should he knock? How many times should he ring it? Fuck, he was nervous as Hell, probably should’ve taken another shot before he left. “Don’t be a Fucking Pussy.” He whispered to himself and knocked on the door. 

“Is your brother here?” He asked the little boy who’d answered the door. Carl waits for a moment, raises his eyebrow, and then asks,

“Which one?” like Mickey was an idiot. 

“Oh, uh Ian.” Mickey laughed to himself, he wasn’t used to saying his name out loud. It was always “Gallagher,” or “fire-crotch,” or some other nickname he’d given him, but never just “Ian.” 

“Yeah he’s upstairs, but uh-“

Mickey didn’t wait for Carl to finish, he moved him aside and proceeded up the stairs. Carl rejoins Debbie and Liam back on the couch to finish the movie he was interrupted from, thinking Ian wouldn’t wanna talk anyway. 

Ian is in his bed, laying long ways on top of the covers with his back to the door. His iPod is in and the door is half-way open. Mickey waits a moment, his heart fluttering. He looks Ian from top to bottom, chews at the corner of his bottom lip, and then knocks against the door frame. Once Ian hears it, he turns and sits up, surprised to see Mickey. 

“Can we talk?” Mickey asked hopefully, he could only imagine Ian had figured it out by now. 

“Talk about what?” Ian asked back, emotionlessly. 

“H-How you been?” Mickey asked hesitantly, trying to start conversation. 

He knew it sounded lame but whatever, he was trying. That’s what mattered right? 

Ian snapped. “I was fine until you fucking snitched on me!” He yelled at Mickey. 

Fuck, he was caught. 

“Snitched? Fuck you talking about Gallagher?” Mickey questioned him, sounding pretty fucking convincing. What a piece-of-shit liar. 

“Fuck you Mickey, you and Mandy were the only two that knew! And I’ve already talked to her, I know she wasn’t the one who fucking called!” 

Yup, definitely caught. 

“Fuck,” he paused, looked away, and then back at Ian, “well what the fuck was I suppose to do? You didn’t give me a fucking choice…not that I’m not getting used to that though.” Mickey said, referring to his marriage.

“Oh Fuck you Mickey! There’s always a choice! And you chose once you signed that fucking piece of paper!” 

Ian’s voice cracked. His anger growing, all the shit he’d been through replaying in his mind. 

“And then you snitch on me and get me dragged back here, do you know I can’t even enlist now? What the FUCK is wrong with you?” Ian was pissed and didn’t ask the question wanting an answer. 

“I-I don’t know man, I just-” Ian cut him off. 

“Don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” Ian barked at Mickey, as he finally stood to his feet. 

“You know that’s not true!” Mickey barked back. 

“How do I know that Mickey? Huh?! I don’t know shit, because you never say shit! I get it okay, your dad and growing up with him it must’ve fucking sucked, but I’m not your fucking dad and this ain’t his fucking house! For once, just let me in! Let me know what you’re thinking, tell me how you fucking feel!” 

Ian didn’t mean to get so passionate, but he was still so in love he couldn’t help it. He’d actually promised himself that he’d never push Mickey to say anything again…but he here was, back at it again. Mickey Milkovich was simply the habit Ian Gallagher couldn’t kick. 

They were eye to eye, both on their feet, silence in the room, Ian’s last words echoing in both their minds. Mickey broke eye contact first turning towards the door, to leave. Feeling stupid and expecting the reaction, Ian sits back down and reaches for his music. But once Mickey reaches the door he closes it and turns to look back at Ian, who was now confused as shit. 

“I-I think about you a lot,” 

Mickey stops and takes a deep breath. He didn’t want anymore of his words to come out stuttered. And as Ian eyes grew wider, he continued.

“…like when you’re not around and shit..I miss you. And I like seeing you smoke,” he laughed out loud, envisioning Ian’s lips wrapped around a cigarette, “the way you do it I mean.”

Mickey couldn’t believe he was saying all the things he been thinking for so long, but it was like he was a faucet and somebody broke the goddamned knob. 

“I like the color of your hair and your fucking freckles. And I like that you’re not a pussy you know? You give a fuck about certain shit and it makes me feel, like, proud of you. And I like that fucking hoodie you left over my house.” Laughing again to himself, “I fucking wear it all the time, even make sure I shower, you know? So it’ll still smell like you. And I’m sorry I was too much of a pussy to tell my dad to fuck off, there’s no excuse I know, but I’m here man.” 

Mickey’s voice cracked and a slight wetness came into his eyes. 

“No one’s ever given a shit about me man, nobody but Mandy you know? So it’s been hard man, real fucking hard. But then it’s like I go from trying to kill you, to not trying to kill you, to stealing Kash’s gun, to you growing balls trying to get the gun back, waking me up with that fucking crow bar and shit, and like the next thing I know, we’re like fucking! Like right there in my room!” 

Ian smiles, remembering their first time together. How he’d try to kiss Mickey but was turned down. It seemed like only yesterday, but he couldn’t help but see how far they’d come. Exactly how long had it been? Two years? Three? He stands to his feet and walks closer to Mickey. 

“…and now it’s like I need you, you know? I need you to be around me. I need to hear your voice and see your face. I wanna just kiss you and fuck you like I never wanna loose you…because I don’t…Because I love you.”

Mickey grabbed Ian by the back of his neck and brought him closer, staring into his eyes.

“I am in love with you okay?” 

Ian’s eyes become wet now, it’s what he’d been waiting for, for so long. It was everything he’d imagined it would be, and more. Mickey loved him and he loved Mickey. That now he knew was certain. Ian’s lips curled into the slightest smile and he replied back, “Okay.”

And then they kissed. A long, passionate, sexy kiss. Both their mouths open, their tongues moving wildly together. They had never kissed like this before, they’d never felt like this before. Mickey had never felt so vulnerable and yet never so alive, and Ian was the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life.

After the sex, they were laying quiet. Both on their right sides, Mickey on the outer side of Ian with his left leg wrapped around him. Ian had fallen asleep and Mickey was holding his hand with his left and stroking Ian’s hair with his right. Mickey never wanted this to end; the feel of Ian, the peace in the room, the love in the air. Mickey was happy and that was a rare thing for him, to feel true happiness. He kissed the back of Ian’s head and then his neck and whispered, “I love you,” in his ear. He closed his eyes and nestled in closer to join Ian in sleep.

“I love you too,” Ian replied back, and gripped Mickey’s hand tighter.

To Be Continued…


	3. It's Complicated.

Carl had stayed up after the first movie was over. Debbie had taken Liam to her room earlier and the two of them were now sound asleep in her bed. Carl couldn’t sleep though, knowing he only had a few days left of Christmas Break, and was going to start watching the next DVD he’d borrowed from Little Hank. That was until the damn batteries ran out and he couldn’t watch it because the “play” button on the Gallagher’s DVD player was broken. Fuck! Carl was gonna have to go ALL the way upstairs and get batteries out of his room, and then come ALL the way back down. Little Hank said there were tons of tits in the movie, so Carl thought it’d probably be worth it. He headed up the stairs kind of annoyed and once in his room, was shocked at what he saw.

“What the Hell?” Carl asked confused, out loud to himself.

It was Ian, his big brother Ian and Mandy’s brother Mickey, and they were…and they were spooning? Was he seeing this shit right?

Ian and Mickey were asleep in Ian’s bed, laying on their sides, and holding hands. They were naked, with a sheet covering the majority of their legs and feet. Because it was Winter, the heat in the house was on, and so while asleep one of them had obviously gotten too hot and worked the blankets off. All that was left was this single white sheet that wasn’t covering anything it should be.

“Oh shit!” Ian said shocked, popping up sensing someone’s presence in the room.

They hadn’t meant to fall asleep..well stay asleep. Ian had swore he only needed five minutes with his eyes shut, but after the sex they’d had, all they could do was sleep. It was some good fucking sleep too, while it lasted.

Ian scurried in the light trying as quick as he could to slip on his boxers and cover his hard on. It wasn’t his fault, he was asleep after all. Mickey was still laying there unconscious, Ian must’ve really worn him out, or maybe it was the gin?

Once he had on his boxers Ian hurried to turn the lights back off and covered Carl’s mouth with his left hand. “What the Hell? Were y’all-?” was all Carl got out before being silenced. Ian backed him into Fiona’s room, his hand still covering Carl’s mouth. Unable to get free, Carl sticks his tongue through his closed mouth to lick the palm of Ian’s hand.

“Ew dude, gross!” Ian said, dropping his hand from Carl’s mouth and rubbing it on his underwear.

“Were y’all cuddling? I saw you guys holding hands! And you were naked, with a boner! And he still is! What the fuck Ian? Are you gay?” Carl kept babbling on, asking question after question without waiting for an answer. After a moment Ian exhaled deeply.

“Sit down Carl, I’ll be right back.”

Ian left the room to put a shirt on and while in his room, grabbed a rolled joint from his top drawer and his Coke he’d been drinking before Mickey had came over. He sits back down next to Carl after first making sure Debbie was still sleeping. He knew Lip was at Mandy’s and Fiona was at some office Christmas Party and wouldn’t be back for at least a few more hours.

“Don’t tell Fi I let you, she’ll kill us both.” Ian said passing the lit joint to Carl. He’d known Carl and Little Hank had smoked before, so what would a couple hits hurt? It was Winter Break after all.

“Thanks man! I won’t!” Carl was excited because it was always Ian who was telling him to do the right thing, this was a pleasant surprise. Carl hit it twice and passed it back to Ian when he started coughing. Ian laughed and then put it out.

“So, enough with the distractions, you a butt pirate or what?” Carl smiled, envisioning an actual pirate with a collection of amputated buttocks.

Ian chuckled, “I wouldn’t say pirate bud.” He said with a smile.

Carl made a confused face, “So you are gay?” He asked still needing a straight answer.

“Yeah bud,” he answered rubbing the top the of Carl’s head to playfully mess up his hair, “I’m gay.”

Carl paused.

“But I thought Mandy used to blow you before she started blowing Lip?”

Ian burst into laughter but Carl was really serious, “Naw man, we’ve always just been friends.”

Carl nodded and then paused again. Ian begins to take a sip of his Coke when Carl asks another question.

“So wait, your dick really was in Jimmy’s Dad’s mouth?” Ian choked on his soda, laughing.

“Where’d you hear that from?” Ian asked surprised.

“Jimmy.” Carl said simply.

“Yeah, it was.” Ian answered nodding his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Isn’t he kinda old though?” Carl asked, his nose scrunching in disgust.

Ian laughed again, everyone always seemed to think Ned was super old. Ian never thought so though, but maybe everybody was right? “Yeah bud, maybe just a little?”

“Ha, yeah gross,” Carl said laughing. “Is Mickey gay?” He asked.

Damn he had a ton of questions.

“Yeah, he is Carl. But you can’t say anything to anybody! You can’t even let him know that you know, okay?” Ian was looking Carl dead in his eyes and Carl understood Ian was serious.

“I won’t say shit, I swear! But uh-” Carl stopped.

“What?” Ian asked.

“Isn’t he married?” Carl asked, confused again. The whole situation was pretty confusing if you didn’t know all the details, and Carl had definitely been out of the loop.

“Yeah, he…-It’s complicated.”

It was the easiest way to say it, he didn’t have the time to catch Carl up on all the drama he’d been going through and nor did he want Carl to know everything. Carl nodded again, so he must’ve understood enough.

“So y’all are like secret boyfriend and uh- boyfriend?” He asked looking up at Ian.

“Hmmm,” he paused. Was Mickey his boyfriend? That’s what he had told Ned. Or a “sort-of boyfriend” at least.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that.” Ian said smiling to himself. “Anymore questions bud?”

“Just a couple,” Carl said innocently. “So do you like, not like tits?” He asked.

“Na, tits are great!” Ian laughed, “but they probably do something different for you bud.”

“Yeah…tits.” Carl said smiling, nodding, and fantasizing.

“Alright, alright take it easy bud. You ready for bed yet?” Ian asked.

“Nah, sleeping’s for fags.” Carl said with his mischievous smile, teasing Ian. “Plus I wanna finish my movie first.”

“Okay, don’t be up too late,”

Ian was just happy Carl was up to watch T.V. and not trying to kill something (or someone).

“Oh and I’ll sleep in Lip’s old bed, so you don’t feel weird or anything.”

He looked confused again.

“Weird how? ‘cause of you two?” Carl asked. “Ha! I’ve seen gay dudes fuck, nothing special.” He laughed, referring to the gay porn he’d seen at his foster parents condo.

“Well,” Ian really didn’t know what to say “good.” He was surprised at how well Carl took everything and Ian knew he and Mickey’s secret would still be safe. Ian got up to leave the room as Carl was stealing some AA batteries from Fiona’s nightstand.

“Ian…” Carl began.

“Yeah?” Ian asked turning back around.

Carl paused and kinda put his head down.

“You never taught me the different hand grips for your S.O.G. fixed blade.” Carl said disappointed.

Ian’s eyes widened as he heard the hurt in Carl’s voice, “I’ll teach you everything I know in the morning bud, promise!”

Carl smiled and hugged Ian for a brief second before running back down the stairs, with a fresh pair of batteries.

Ian goes into his room to find Mickey still passed out but covered by the sheet. He strips back down to nothing, cuddles next to him, and kisses Mickey’s neck.

“How’d he take the news?” Mickey asked.

To Be Continued…


	4. Thought You Had To Work?

It had been two weeks since Mickey first told Ian he was in love with him, and school was starting back up. Mickey had been crashing at the Gallagher house since that night and he and Ian had been pretty much inseparable, with the exception of work. Mandy had told Terry and Svetlana that Mickey had the flu and therefore shouldn't be around his pregnant wife, she'd even brought over some of Mickey's clothes so he wouldn't have to go home, (he could fit Ian's shirts but not his jeans). Everyone had sort of came to a silent understanding, they knew Mickey and Ian were together, but no one really talked about it. The house was empty except for the two boys, Ian had skipped school but had a shift at the Kash and Grab in 14 minutes.

"Stop," Ian mumbled, moaning in pleasure. 

He and Mickey had just gotten out of the shower and Mickey had been disappointed that their shower, was just that, a shower...like to get clean, what the fuck? He'd wanted Ian in him and wasn't letting him leave until he got just that. 

He stood behind Ian, making himself taller by standing on his toes, and was kissing his neck the way he knew would get Ian's dick hard. 

"Mmmm," Ian moaned, "I have to go to work." 

His mouth protested, as his blood rushed. 

Mickey didn't say anything, he just kept kissing. Kissing as he moved to the front of Ian's face, kissing as he bit Ian's bottom lip, kissing as sucked on Ian's neck. Jesus, how did he get so good at this? 

"I have to go." Ian said, still protesting.

Really? Was he really still thinking about work? His dick was hard and poking through his pants, so obviously work wasn't the only thing on his mind. 

Mickey was still quiet. Only the sounds of him sucking Ian's neck and Ian's moans were audible. Mickey began to unbuckle Ian's belt, but afraid Mickey might zip his dick because it was hard, Ian unzips his own jeans and pulls it out himself. 

"Thought you had to work?" Mickey asked smiling, playing with Ian's dick. 

"Yeah, yeah. We gotta make it quick though." Ian said, putting his hand on the back of Mickey's head. 

Mickey dropped to his knees and began licking Ian's inner thigh, kissing and sucking on it. They didn't really have time for this sensual shit, but Mickey knew how much Ian loved it. And Mickey loved making Ian feel good, especially when it came to sex.

Ian backed up to sit on the edge of his bed, as Mickey's head bobbed up and down, and up and down. God, was there anything Mickey wasn't good at? 

Mickey stood up to take his pants off and Ian returned the favor. 

"Mmm, shit Gallagher." Mickey moaned out. Ian's skills were just as impressive as his. After a few minutes, he pushed Ian's head off of him and then straddled the redhead. 

Ian's big hands were wrapped around Mickey's waist. He moves them lower to grip Mickey's ass. He loved grabbing Mickey's ass. Mickey rode him wild, bouncing up and down to the rhythm of his own beat. Ian then sat up, still inside Mickey, and began kissing his lips.

"Mmmm," they both moan as Mickey lays his head on Ian's shoulder.

"I love you." Mickey whispers in his ear. 

Hearing him say it so unexpectedly sent Ian into a frenzy. He stands up, gripping the undersides of Mickey's thighs, and turns around to lay Mickey on his back. Once in the new position, Ian puts Mickey's legs on either side of his shoulders and pounds into Mickey relentlessly. Mickey holds the back of Ian's arms, occasionally scratching them. 

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," he moaned out with each thrust of Ian's dick. Ian had never been so rough, Mickey loved it.

And then they came...hard. 

Mickey finished first and Ian right after him. Mickey was exhausted and Ian was late. Mickey lay there smiling, completely satisfied, and happy he wasn't the one putting on clothes to leave. 

"Fuck Gallagher, what the Hell got into you?" Mickey asked, the satisfaction evident in his voice.

Ian just bites his lip and raises one eyebrow like he was the man. And he was. Mickey let out a little laugh and half smile and Ian bent down and kissed him. 

"See you when I get off?" Ian asked like it was a question. 

"I'll be right here." Mickey said stretching out and rolling over to get comfortable.

"I love you." Ian said as he stood by the doorway, kind of nervous because they weren't in any particular heated moment.

Mickey raised his head from the pillow and looked at Ian, "I love you too." He said smiling, and then laid his head back down. 

27 minutes late. Fuck. 

Once he arrived at the Kash and Grab, Ian saw Linda at the front talking to a younger black guy who looked familiar to Ian. She was smiling and handing him a security vest like the one Mickey had.

"Hey Ian," Linda called him over, "this is Nick and he's gonna be helping out with security." 

Ian looked at him again, knowing he knew him from somewhere. 

"Hey, what's up man?" Ian asked, sticking his hand out for a shake.

Nick smiled.

"Well, if isn't that chick from the movie Brave." 

To Be Continued...


	5. Maybe You Could Change My Mind?

Linda Karib and Stacy Trahan had been friends since before Linda became a Muslim, so when Stacy's youngest son Nick needed a job, Linda was more than happy to hire him as a security guard. With all the shit that went down in that neighborhood, she could always use a little more security. Ian was beyond irritated. Was he really gonna have to work with this douche? Fuck, it looked like it. They were only an hour into their shift and Ian hadn't said another word to him. Sensing the tension Nick approaches Ian, who's sitting behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. 

"So, what's been up Red?" Nick asked way too nicely. 

Ian keeps flipping through the pages. 

"Shit." He answered without looking up. 

"Oh okay. So uh, how long you been working here?" Nick asked, still being way too nice. 

"Few years." 

He still didn't look up and Nick could tell he didn't wanna talk, and that he wasn't really reading the magazine. 

"Oh cool man! Yeah, Mrs. Karib and my mom have been friends since like forever, so that's how I got hooked up." 

Why was Nick being so persistent? So nice? Telling Ian all this shit he didn't wanna hear. He was a complete asshole before, what had changed? 

Ian still wouldn't look up at him and Nick thought he'd might know why.

"What? Are you seriously pissed 'cuz I said you look like that girl? It was a joke man, c'mon." 

When he asked it like that, it made Ian feel sorta stupid. Was he mad because he had called him that? No, Nick was just a tool. Through and through. 

"What about "Red?" Is that better?" Nick asked jokingly. 

Ian didn't respond. 

"Alright man I'm sorry, really. What's your name again?"

He sounded sincere and so Ian stopped flipping through the pages and finally looked up, kinda surprised at what he saw.

Nick was the same height as Ian and they had pretty much the same build too. Back in Gunderson House though, Nick was skinny with an afro, and all sweaty. But he had been working out, (obviously) and his hair was cut short. Maybe that was why Ian hadn't recognized him immediately? His facial expression was different too. He wasn't trying to look mean or tough, so his face was in a state of relax. He'd also grown some facial hair above his lip and on his chin, since he wasn't being forced to shave, like all the boys sent to Gunderson House were. And the way the sun was beaming through the glass of the front doors, lit the right (Ian's left) side of his face and made his dark eyes a lighter color brown. Ian stared for just a moment. He hadn't noticed before but Nick was...kinda cute. 

"Ian." He answered him. "And you're Nick right?" 

Ian knew his name. 

"Yessir," he answered back in all one word. "So uh, what were you doing in Gunderson House?" Nick asked. 

"Long story dude," Ian said shaking his head, "what about you?" 

Nick chuckled and then paused. 

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked. 

Ian was intrigued. 

"Yeah man, definitely." He said, opening his ears. 

Nick paused again, "I didn't do shit." 

Nick Trahan had been sent to Gunderson House for a big misunderstanding really. He was on juvenile probation for possession of Marijuana, (God! They should just legalize the shit already) and had a curfew of 9 o'clock. It was a Friday night and Nick had been in his room for the past few hours. When his brother came home and asked if Nick could take him to the hospital, he didn't ask questions. Once in the car, his brother asked if he could stop at the gas station and Nick obliged. A trash bag full of money and a few gun shots later, and Nick was back in juvie. But after his brother told the truth in court, he was released and sent to Gunderson House by the request of his mother, who just didn't believe either one her sons' stories. 

So maybe this was why he seemed so nice? He wasn't the badass he'd wanted everyone to think he was. He just was that nice kid. And now that he was out, he didn't have to put up that front, he could just be himself. The whole situation seemed rather familiar to Ian. 

"Damn, that's gotta suck." Ian replied to the story Nick had just told. 

"Yeah. It was pretty fucked up but whatever. What can you do right?" 

They both chuckled. 

"Right." Ian replied. 

The rest of their shift was way less awkward. That was, when Ian didn't catch Nick looking at him and Nick didn't catch Ian's eyes on him. What the fuck was Nick looking at? What the fuck was Ian looking at? What the fuck was going on?

When it came time to lock up and leave, Nick spoke first.

"Oh, before you got here Mrs. Karib said we could take one of these with us when we leave. She said they'd be stale in morning 'cuz they haven't been selling since Christmas." 

Nick was referring to the four remaining gingerbread houses that were sitting on a table near the front door.

"Oh sweet!" Ian said, he knew how much Debbie and Liam would love it. 

Nick made a face of slight disgust. 

"Hmmm, never really had a taste for gingerbread," he said, pulling a gumdrop from the roof and popping it in his mouth, 

"Maybe you could change my mind?" 

To Be Continued...


	6. Open Your Eyes.

It was a Friday night, well technically it was Saturday morning but whatever, it was a Friday night and both Mickey and Ian were drunk. Mickey had been buying shots at the Alibi all night, having cashed his first check he got working with the sewage company Fiona had worked with during the summer. The boss had called Fiona telling her about how she had an open and permanent position on her team, but having just gotten a promotion at Worldwide Cup, she turned it down and recommend Mickey for the job. He didn't have a diploma and was making just over minimum wage at the Kash & Grab, so $14.50/hr. was a no brainer. And though he hadn't got the job alone and was really just "shovelin' shit," he was proud, and wanted to spend his money on Ian. 

"Really, another round?" Kev asked Mickey, hesitant to sell him anymore liquor. 

"Last one." Mickey said slurring his words and slapping a five dollar bill on the bar-top. 

It was right before close and Kev was the only one left in the bar. Ian had his hand on Mickey's thigh, playing with him through his jeans, and when Kev went to the back to grab the broom, Ian kissed him. And Mickey kissed him back. It was so unlike Mickey but he was drunk and in love. He didn't care. He was suppose to be laying low, still playing sick and all, but he didn't care about that either. He was with Ian and that's all that mattered. 

"Jesus, get a room." Kev said emerging from the back, broom in hand. 

"We are in a room," Ian started. 

"...the Alibi Room." Mickey finished. Saying it so it was the punch line to a corny joke. 

Him and Ian laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard, while Kev just looked at them like the belligerent drunks they were. Why had he kept letting them drink? Neither one of them was 21, he could've just kicked them out. Too late now, the Alibi was closed.

They stumbled down the street until they reached the back door of the Gallagher house, and once inside they tripped their way up the stairs, laughing for no real reason. Lip was still with Mandy, so they decided to use Frank's room for the night. 

"Oh fuck that Gallagher," Mickey said, still slurring his words. 

Ian was trying to convince him to open a bank account. He was trying to teach Mickey the concept of saving, the value of a dollar. Mickey didn't wanna hear that shit. But that was one of the reasons why he'd fallen in love with Ian in the first place, Ian genuinely cared about Mickey. 

"But if you open the account your-"

Mickey kissed Ian to interrupt his drunk rant about direct deposit or whatever. 

"Would you just shut the fuck up," Mickey said with a smile, "here, sit down, I wanna show you something."

Ian did as Mickey asked and sat down on the bed. 

"Close your eyes," Mickey told him, "I got something for you." 

Ian closed his eyes and began smiling. He was drunk so the darkness made the room spin faster, but he was smiling because he was anticipating a blowjob, or a kiss, or something sexual from him. But no, Mickey had a gift for Ian, a real gift. 

"Open your eyes." Mickey said with an excited tone in his voice. 

Ian did, but his vision was blurry from drinking and his eyes weren't adjusted to the bright light of the room. He saw something though, really shiny, and really close to his face. After a moment it became more clear and Ian started to smile.

Mickey had gotten Ian a chain just like the one Cousin Patrick had jacked from him, when Mickey went to scare him off. Except, this chain was a little longer and gold. And it was heavy, it was real. 

Ian really didn't know what to say. He was still so drunk and now so surprised, that all he could do was smile. 

"You like it?" Mickey asked, still holding it in front of Ian's face. 

The chain actually wasn't Ian's style. He would've never bought it for himself or even asked anyone to get it for him. But the fact that Mickey had actually bought it and surprised him with it, Ian loved that chain more than anything and was never gonna take it off. 

"I love it Mick," he said as Mickey slid it over his head and bent down to kiss him, "but why'd you get it?" 

Mickey paused, not expecting that question. 

"Uh, I don't know man. I got one that matches it and I thought you might like it." His excited expression faded. "You hate it, huh?" 

Ian stood up and pulled Mickey's face close to his.

"I said I love it," he kissed Mickey's lips. "and you, thank you so much."

Mickey was smiling again.

"Yeah man, that hoodie at my house reminds me of you, and so I thought that this chain might remind you of me."

It was the sweetest thing Mickey had ever done for him. He wanted Ian thinking about him. Why couldn't Mickey have been like this years ago? 

"Who said I wanted to be reminded of you?" Ian said in a serious tone, but was only joking.

Mickey raised his eyebrows in surprise, not being able to sense it was a joke. 

"I'm just playing," Ian said grabbing Mickey by his waist, "thanks again." And started kissing his lips, then moved to his neck, thanking him the way he knew Mickey would love. 

Ian was only occasionally the bottom, (Mickey just preferred it) but tonight, Ian wanted to bottom. He wanted to feel Mickey on top of him and in him. He wanted to feel the stoke of Mickey's thrusting hips, and the strength of Mickey's arms and chest. But above all, he wanted to thank Mickey. Thank him not just for the necklace or the whiskey shots, but for being brave. For starting to open up and not over thinking everything. They were starting to grow and they were doing it together, and that's all Ian had wanted all along.

He stripped Mickey of all his clothes and threw him onto the bed. Looking into his eyes seductively, Ian begins to strip his own clothes away, until he's in nothing but the gift he'd just been given. He moved slow and meticulous, giving a drunk Mickey a little show to watch. Mickey was fully erect even before Ian climbed on the bed and put Mickey in his mouth, sucking him with passion and purpose. 

"Mmmm shit Gallagher," Mickey moaned out, "suck that fucking dick." 

Dark liquor made Mickey a little more aggressive, a little more talkative during sex. It was a good thing Ian wanted to bottom, Mickey was in the mood to top. 

"Mmmm, look at me while you do it." Mickey commanded, biting his bottom lip. 

The combination of Jack Daniel's, this killer blowjob, and Ian's gorgeous green eyes had Mickey lost in paradise. He was gonna be hard for hours. 

He got up and threw Ian face down onto the bed. It was only fair to warm him up first right? It was no surprise really, Mickey was good with his tongue too. Where had he learned all these tricks? 

"Ahhh," it was Ian in paradise now, "that feels so good Mick." 

Ian grabbed the back of Mickey's head signaling him to lick faster, deeper. A few more minutes of that and Mickey was ready to fuck. Ian hadn't bottomed in awhile so starting took a little time. Ian buried his face in the pillow and was trying to muffle his moaning, but Mickey moved it, wanting to hear anything that came from Ian's mouth. 

"Mmmm..Mmmm..Ahhh." Ian moaned as he gripped the mattress. 

Mickey bends over, his abs on Ian's back, and starts kissing Ian's neck. Moving his hips slowly to gradually make his way in and gripping Ian's shoulders from underneath. That was the thing about their sex, one minute they could be passionate, moving slow and making love, and the next they were rough, moving wild, like the animals they both were. 

Still on all fours, Mickey begins to pound into Ian, grabbing his waist to keep him close. 

"Mmmm fuck. Ahhh, shit." Ian started moaning out a little too loud. 

"MmmHmm, you like that huh?" Mickey said clenching his jaw, pounding into him harder. 

Ian's moans gave Mickey a confidence boost he really didn't need and he wanted to see Ian's face as he fucked him. Mickey positioned Ian on his side and continued in him, but was now fixated on those beautiful green eyes and slowed it down a bit.

"You're fucking sexy Gallagher." Mickey said moaning.

He was so glad Ian was his. He loved him so much, everything about him. They went at it until 5:36 that morning, a three and a half hour "thank you" to Mickey.

Mickey was laying up, smoking a cigarette and Ian was sleep (no really, he was really sleep this time) nestled into his chest. He was stroking his hair, the way he like to when Ian was asleep, and was having a conversation with his unconscious lover. 

"You know earlier, when you said you were playing? You know about the whole not being reminded about me thing?" 

Mickey's eyes started to water as he continued to stroke Ian's hair.

"Can we just agree to not play like that? Call me a fucking pussy or whatever but yeah, that wasn't funny. I'll never forget you, so don't forget me okay? I'll always love you, so you gotta love me too, okay?" 

But Ian was sound asleep and didn't respond.

Mickey put his cigarette out and held Ian in his arms for the rest of the night, never wanting to let him go.

To Be Continued...


	7. 3+5=8

Mickey looked so cute in his grey one-piece uniform. He hated that damn thing but Ian thought he looked good in it, or his muscles did at least. He had been working with the sewage company for about three weeks and was saving a portion of each check that got directly deposited into his bank account. Yeah, yeah Ian was right about opening one, whatever. Mickey had also started sleeping back at his house (he could only have the Flu for so long) but had still had a bunch of his clothes at the Gallagher house, and was spending as much time with Ian as he could. He had called his boss to tell her he was gonna be a few minutes late, so he could see Ian before his shift at the Kash and Grab. 

"I think it looks good. Maybe if you roll up the sleeves and keep the top open a little bit?" Ian suggested, flirting with Mickey as he put his own shirt on, "show a little skin you know." 

"You'd like that huh Gallagher?" Mickey said smiling, "but nah man, I'd wind up getting shit on me, literally." 

They both laughed at the truth of his joke. 

"Well you look good either way." Ian said. 

"Fuck, I guess."

Mickey was sitting on Ian's bed but stood up and started trying to lift Ian's shirt back off of him. 

"No, I can't be late." Ian said with a smile, pulling his shirt back down.

"Yeah I've heard that before." Mickey said as he started kissing Ian's neck. 

"No. I really can't be late today." Ian said pushing Mickey off and walking towards the door. 

Mickey grabbed Ian by his gold chain and pulled him back so that they were face to face again. He rests his left hand in the small of Ian's back and places his right on Ian's neck. 

"Well can I see you when you get off?" Mickey asked him, biting his bottom lip. 

"Yeah of course Mick. It's just Linda will have my ass if I'm late again. You know I'd stay if I could." Ian said, giving Mickey that same smile he gives him after he fucks him real good. 

That really made Mickey want him to stay.

"Alright. I'll see you when you get off then." He kissed Ian on the lips and they both left for work. 

It was the first week of March and the Chicago sun was shining bright. Ian and Nick would be at work until ten, and time was moving slow because despite the great weather, they had little business coming in and out of the store. Nick was only wearing a black tank top under his security vest and his big arms flexed every time he lifted a box. Maybe that was why Ian had asked him to help stock the shelves?

"Heat, definitely. LeBron and Wade are untouchable as a team." Nick replied. 

"That's fucking typical dude. You and the rest of the world are too busy kissing his ass, you don't take the time to look at his stats. Kobe would kill LeBron any day."

"Oh bullshit Red! Kobe is a has-been and a perv," they both chuckled, "he should just retire already!"

"Fuck that! Kobe-"

**DING, the door opened. 

"Hold that thought," Ian said as they both walked to the front of the store. 

The blonde customer who had walked in was none other than Ms. Holly Herkimer. She was alone and dressed really slutty. I mean the weather was nice, but not nice enough for the amount of cleavage she was showing or for the amount of ass hanging out her short skirt. She always dressed like that though, so it wasn't a real surprise. After prancing around the store aimlessly, she bought a cherry Popsicle, unwrapped it in front of Ian, and slid it in her mouth slowly. Did she really think it was cute to act so slutty? As she turned towards the door to leave, Ian rolled his eyes. "Bye Ian," she said in her skanky tone. She gave Nick a little wink too and as she walked out, his eyes were fixed on her ass. 

"Damn Red, you fucking that?" Nick asked, as they walked back to the back and resumed stocking the shelf.

Ian's entire faced scrunched in disgust, "Ew dude, hell no. She's like sixteen."

"She was fucking hot bro, you're tripping." 

"Gross man. And she's like friends with my little sister too. That's just wrong." Ian said shaking his head and laughing. 

"Shit whatever, you probably couldn't handle all that anyway. You know what they say about you white boys." Nick said smiling.

Ian raised one of his eyebrows.

"Uh, no. I don't know," Ian said intrigued, "what do "they" say?" 

"Ha, c'mon Red! Don't play like you don't got a baby dick!" 

Ian burst into laughter. 

"Nah man, I never heard that one before! But you can ask your mom, she'll tell you all about me!" He said joking. 

"Yeah I bet she would...about all three inches." Nick joked back. 

"Yeah, plus about five more." Ian said, still laughing.

Nick paused. 

"Damn Red. So you're telling me that you're packing eight inches?" 

Ian paused now, were they really having a conversation about his dick? 

"I said, "about" five more." 

Nick smiled, "so it's "about" eight inches?" 

Ian blushed. 

"3+5=8." He laughed, putting a can on the shelf.

Nick's eyes got wide and he raised both his eyebrows in disbelief, "that's some shit I gotta see to believe." 

Ian just laughed again and kept putting cans on the shelf. 

"So..." Nick began. 

"So what?" Ian asked, hearing his sentence wasn't finished. 

"You gonna show me?"

Ian's heart began to race. 

"Show you what?" He asked. 

Ian was playing dumb, he knew the answer.

"Your dick Red. You gonna show it to me or what?" Nick had stopped stocking the shelf and was looking at him. 

Ian was nervous. 

"I mean, it's- I'm- i'm not- " 

Nick understood what Ian was trying to say and took a step closer to him. He looked him in the eyes and started rubbing him through his jeans. Ian waited a moment and then pushed him back. 

"Dude, what the f-"

Nick stepped forward again and started kissing Ian's neck, interrupting his poor attempt to play straight. He was hard now and Nick was trying to unbuckle his belt. 

"Ahhh shit," Ian moaned, "wait wait wait." 

Nick stopped. 

"What? You don't want to?" He asked. 

"No," Ian said smiling, "we gotta lock the doors." 

Nick turned and went to lock the front and back doors. And as he flipped the "Back in 15 Minutes" sign, Ian took off his jeans.

"Goddamn Red," Nick said looking back at Ian, "you weren't lying." 

While Mickey was on the El headed to work, his boss had called him and told him he didn't have to come in. The team had finished the job they were working on and had no others lined up, so he could stay home for the rest of the day. So happy he had some free time, Mickey immediately thought to go see Ian at work. He switched trains and headed back South, towards the Kash and Grab. 

"What the fuck?" Mickey thought out loud to himself as he read the sign on the door. 

Mickey knew the hours of the Kash and Grab, and he knew that no one should be gone right now. But even if Linda and Ian were both gone, he knew security would've been watching the store. Something wasn't right and Mickey was suspicious. 

He went around to the back and used his key to open the locked door. Mickey walked in to find the store empty and quiet. Everything seemed normal as he looked around, that was, until he reached the small square window of the walk-in cooler.

His heart stopped.

It was a sight he'd seen before, but only on the other side of the glass. 

It was Ian, his Ian. And we was having sex with someone else.

To Be Continued...


	8. What Did I Do Wrong?

Mickey didn't do anything. As bad as he wanted to bust through that door and beat the shit out of Ian, as bad as he wanted to whoop whosever fag ass that was getting fucked, and as bad as he wanted to tell Ian how much he'd hurt him, Mickey just couldn't do anything. He turned from the cooler and left the building as quiet as he had came in, locking the back door behind him. And as he walked down the street in the broad daylight, he began trying to fight back the tears that were welling in his eyes. 

His mind was racing with so many questions. He had told Ian how he felt and this is what he got in return? Was Ian secretly mad at him because he could never enlist again? Or was he not in love with Mickey? Had he been playing him the whole time? Stringing him along, telling Mickey what he wanted to hear? Was it because he was married? Ian knew he wasn't having sex with Svetlana, didn't he? Was he getting back at him for actually going through with the wedding? Or was Ian in love with that motherfucker he was fucking? How many times had they fucked? Did Ian like fucking him better than he liked fucking Mickey? 

"What did I do wrong?" He thought out loud to himself as the first tear dropped. 

Mickey didn't know the answer to that question either. In that moment he knew only one thing for certain, he was heart-broken. Ian Gallagher broke his heart. 

Meanwhile, things were getting pretty hot and heavy at the Kash & Grab. 

Nick was on his back with one of his legs against Ian. They were just like Mickey and Ian had been when Frank caught them, except they didn't have any of their clothes on. Ian was fucking him rough and fast, and deep and long. He was thinking about pleasuring himself only, but at the same time, was giving Nick the fuck of his life. 

"Mmmm. Mmmm, ahhh fuck." Nick was moaning quietly. 

He was used to bottoming and he liked it rough. 

Ian wasn't making a sound. He was biting down on his jaw and drilling Nick the only was he knew how. His abs flexed with every stroke and his arms bulged as he gripped Nick's waist tighter. Ian always looked so good when he fucked like that. His furrowed brow and clenched jaw made him look older and with all his muscles working at the same time, his body was fucking ripped. He looked so masculine, so tough, and there was this fire burning in his green eyes. Nick grabbed Ian's ass, forcing him to fuck faster. 

"Oh fuck! Ahhh shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck." Nick's quiet moaning turned to a scream and that motivated Ian to fuck him harder. 

"Oh fuck Ian! Fuck me!" Nick moaned out. 

Ian then motioned Nick to get on his knees and to start sucking him off. It was him who said he'd wanted to taste Ian, and now he was gonna get what he asked for. Nick sucked him slow and deep, taking all eight of Ian's inches into his throat. Roger Spikey had been the only one able to deep throat Ian, and that was years ago. His dick was even bigger now. 

"Oh shit," Ian moaned out in amazement, "do that shit again." 

Nick took it all back into his throat but gagged a little this time and that made Ian laugh. 

"Play with my balls at the same time." Ian said, as he pinched his left nipple. 

Nick did as he commanded, and with that, his mouth became full of more than just Ian's dick. 

"Ahhh f-f-fuckkk." Ian moaned out as he came. 

Nick swallowed the cum and stood to his feet with a smile. 

"Damn you taste good Red," he said putting his clothes back on, "where'd you learn to fuck like that?" 

Ian just laughed and gave him the same smile he gives all the guys that say shit like that when he's done. 

That was Ian's problem, guys. Always has been and probably always will be. He didn't know what it was and he couldn't control it. It was like he couldn't think clear, or see clear, he was always just in the moment. It excited him to see new things, to fuck new people. And that was the most exciting part, the variations between men. He liked to fuck older guys because of their sensual nature and he liked fucking younger guys because of their wilder, adolescent ways. So many different colors and textures, and smells too. It was like a candy store. Ian was just a kid in a candy store. 

After they were dressed and had re-opened up, Nick and Ian got back to work as normal. They didn't kiss and there wasn't any tension. Nothing was awkward either. It was just sex. And it was damn good too. 

Guilty wasn't really the word to describe how Ian was feeling. I mean yeah, he was in love, but Nick threw himself at Ian, and he and Mickey had never had "the talk," they weren't exclusive. And even if they had been, that would've made Ian, Mickey's mistress. Ian wasn't going for that shit. He felt...the same? He was kinda shocked to find out Nick was a bottom (not really though, the more he thought about it), he was a little annoyed because he still had to close the Kash & Grab and it was only 6:15, and he really, really needed to take a piss, having just came and all. He wasn't in love with Nick and now, didn't have a real desire to fuck him again. One time was all he really needed. Ian was a slut, he knew it. But it wasn't his fault he looked so good and could fuck so well, was it? 

Ian hadn't even thought about Mickey, but then got the sickest feeling in his stomach. He was sitting at the front, reading a magazine, and something cold kept touching him. He looked down and saw that the cold was coming from his gold chain, now tucked away because he'd taken his shirt off to have sex, and had since put it back on. It was the same gold chain Mickey had bought and surprised him with, the same gold chain that was meant to remind him of Mickey, the same gold chain that showed him how much Mickey really did care. 

Fuck, what had he done? 

Ian would be asking that again later, once Mickey made it clear that he and Nick weren't the only ones there that afternoon. 

To Be Continued...


	9. That's Not Mine.

Carl, Debbie, Liam, and Fiona were all the kitchen table eating dinner. Debbie had made spaghetti and was telling everyone about a new friend she’d made at school. It was 7:03 p.m. when Mickey came busting through the back door, scaring the shit out of Debbie and Liam. He was taken back a bit because he hadn’t thought about the fact that they would all be there, and in the kitchen too. Mickey smelled like liquor and was still dressed in his work uniform. And he also had something in his hand. 

“Hey Mickey. I thought you were working today?” Fiona asked, her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. 

Mickey was a mess. If he had been at work, he definitely hadn’t been there in this condition. He was slurring his words and his voice was shaky as hell. His face wasn’t bruised, but his clothes looked like he’d been in a fight. He was beyond wasted. And his eyes were really red, and swollen too. Had he been crying? What the fuck had happened to Mickey Milkovich? 

“Y-yeah, I-I got off early.” He replied as best he could. 

And why was there so much pain in his voice? So much pain that Mickey was almost unbearable to listen to. None of them had ever heard him sound like that. None of them had ever heard anyone sound like that. 

“You okay Mickey?” Fiona asked in her motherly tone. 

She knew he wasn’t. And the care in her voice was too much for him to handle. His puffy red eyes began to water again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he said, putting his head down and walking towards the sink, “I just need to grab some of my shit.” 

“Okay…” Fiona said to him and continued feeding Liam. 

It wasn’t that Fiona didn’t care, or didn’t notice, she was just used to having to juggle so many different things at once. She would’ve tried to talk to him though, had he stayed. 

Mickey reached under the sink and pulled a black trash bag from the loose roll that was next to the glass cleaner. He looked through the laundry basket that was on top of the dryer, got all his t-shirts out of it, and then put them into the garbage bag. Carl was the only one still watching him, he knew something was up. And once Mickey went up the stairs, Carl followed him. 

Mickey had started gathering all of his clothes out of the boys’ room and didn’t bother doing it in an orderly fashion. He was on his knees going through a laundry basket when Carl asked him what was wrong. Over the past couple months, he and Mickey had grown pretty close. Mickey had taught Carl how to fight. He’d also showed Carl how to properly load and shoot his MAC-10 pistol, and it was killing Carl to know something was wrong with him. 

“N-nothing Carl, I just need these clothes.” His voice was still so shaky. 

“Why? You barely change clothes anyway, and all that shit’s been here.” 

Mickey laughed a little laugh to himself. Everyone always thought Carl was so stupid, but Mickey knew Carl just saw things differently. He was actually very smart and Mickey saw so much of himself in Carl. They loved each other, just as much as they loved their own brothers. 

“Yeah that’s the point. Most of this is Iggy’s shit and he wants it back.” 

Carl wasn’t buying it. 

“Does Ian know you’re taking that stuff?” 

Mickey couldn’t bear to hear his name. If he’d left anything else, fuck it, he had to get out of there. Talking to Carl was about to make him cry again. Mickey pushed past Carl and stumbled into the hallway.

“Wait Mickey, you forgot this.” Carl said, holding out the hoodie Mickey had laid on Ian’s bed. 

He turned to look at what Carl was referring to and had tears in his eyes. 

“That’s not mine.” Mickey told him as he turned and walked down the stairs. 

And then Carl heard the door slam.

10:22 p.m.

As soon as he got off work, Ian had sent Mickey a text (no reply). He walked down the street and tried calling him (no answer). He hadn’t given it a second thought though, Mickey hardly ever answered his phone. When he got home, Ian came through the back door and all the lights were off in the kitchen. He walked up the stairs and found Carl sitting up on his bed, waiting on him.

“Hey, what’s up Carl?” Ian asked, kinda curious as to why Carl wasn’t in his own bed. 

“Did you do something to Mickey?” Carl asked in an aggressive tone. 

Ian had an instant look of surprise written all over his face. Carl was up waiting to talk about Mickey? And was he…defending him?

“No. Why would you ask that?” Ian asked back, defensively. 

“Well, he came over earlier when we were eating and was drunk. Like, Frank drunk…” 

“Okay?” Ian asked, taking off his jacket, not fully understanding what that had to do with him. 

“And he took all his clothes home! From the basket downstairs and from that one too.” Carl said, pointing to the flipped laundry basket on their bedroom floor, “He was throwing shit everywhere and like-” 

Carl stopped. 

“What?” Ian asked.

“I uh- I think he might’ve been crying.” Carl said, not wanting to embarrass Mickey. 

Ian got worried then. With Mickey not answering his phone and with what Carl was telling him, he knew something bad had happened. He hadn’t connected in his mind that Mickey knew about him fucking Nick though, Ian just knew something wasn’t right. 

He sat down on the edge of his bed and started putting the clothes back into the flipped hamper. Carl hopped off Ian’s bed and retrieved the hoodie he’d stashed on his own top bunk. He knew that jacket had some type of importance. Some sentimental value.

“Here,” Carl said tossing it onto Ian’s lap, “he brought this too.” 

Ian looked down and got that same sick feeling in his stomach that he’d had before, and all the color drained from his face. 

“What? What did he say Carl?!” His worry had turned to panic, but he still wasn’t making the connection.

“He just said it wasn’t his, and then he left.” 

Carl’s answer cut Ian deeper than any knife ever could. He sat there for a moment, was this really happening?

“Did y’all break up or something Ian? Carl asked disappointedly. “Mickey’s cool! I like him.” 

Ian’s heart was racing as fast as Mickey’s mind had been earlier. Why was Mickey doing this? This shit WAS NOT funny. 

“Just stay here Carl.” Ian said. 

And left back out the Gallagher house. 

11:07 p.m. 

The walk to the Milkovich house seemed like it took forever. It was freezing outside, which was crazy, compared to how nice it had been earlier. Ian was nervous of what was to come. He didn’t know if the Mickey he was gonna see would be the sweet one that he’d been shacking up with, or the fag-bashing douche bag he became when he was angry. He didn’t know if Mickey was gonna whoop his ass on sight, or if it was all just a prank being played on him. Ian just needed to talk to Mickey. He would’ve lost his mind otherwise. 

The front door was unlocked and Ian let himself in. He knew Svetlana was working a late shift (there was no way that bitch was just giving hand-jobs), and Terry Milkovich’s truck was gone, so he must’ve been getting drunk somewhere. Ian could hear Mandy and Lip having sex and he also heard Mickey’s muffled radio on full blast. Mickey only listened to his music like that when he was pissed. Fuck, what had he done? Ian still hadn’t made the connection and Nick was really the last thing on his mind right now. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, the music was too loud anyway. 

Mickey was laying in his bed throwing a baseball up into the air and catching it when it fell back down, drunkly singing along with his radio. He was still dressed in all his work clothes, and was livid the moment he saw Ian’s face. He got up and hit the shit out of his radio so it would shut up.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY GODDAMN HOUSE GALLAGHER!” 

Mickey was yelling just as loud as the radio had been, if not louder. 

“Micke-” Ian started, but was cut off.

“FUCK YOU GALLAGHER! I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT!” 

Ian tried to start again, “Mic-“

Mickey punched Ian in the stomach, cutting his words short and making him hunch over. 

Tears were forming in his eyes as he bent down to scream into Ian’s ear, “YOU THINK I’M FUCKING PLAYING GALLAGHER?! GET THE FUCK OUT! I’M SO SERIOUS, I’M ABOUT TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” 

Ian grabbed Mickey by both his wrists and held them down by his waist, trying to get a word in without getting punched. 

“Mickey, what’s wron-“

Mickey headbutted Ian, sending him crashing to the floor without being able to finish his question. He then kicked Ian in the stomach. 

“Mickey what did I do?” Ian managed to cough out. 

Mickey paused, his eyes watering again. He kicked Ian in the stomach a second time. And then a third. 

“BACK IN 15 MINUTES, HUH?” Mickey barked at Ian, his voice cracking in agony, the tears present in his eyes. 

Ian looked up, and in that moment, knew that Mickey had been there and saw him. Ian didn’t realize until then, but Mickey was hurting. He wasn’t just his usual mad, he was broken. Ian had broke him. But was Ian wrong? He knew he would’ve never told Mickey the truth and he knew that if it was Mickey who had been fucking someone else, he would’ve been devastated. Fuck, he was wrong. All along everyone said Ian Gallagher was too good for Mickey Milkovich, that wasn’t the case anymore. 

“Mickey I’m-” 

Mickey kicked him a fourth time, not wanting to hear his bullshit. Ian was sorry he got caught. 

Mickey kinda broke down then. He knew beating the shit out of Ian wasn’t gonna solve anything, but he was still so hurt. What had he done to deserve that? He still didn’t know, and the tears began flowing. He wasn’t yelling anymore and his voice was shaky because he was crying. Mickey sounded desperate. 

“I told you how I felt Ian. I told you I was sorry and that I loved you, and I meant it too! I just- why would you do that to me?” 

It broke Ian’s heart to hear Mickey sound like that. It was only fair though right? He’d broken Mickey’s heart. 

Tears began to well in Ian’s eyes and Mickey let him stand to his feet. 

“I been walking around like a fucking fag at your house with you, no telling who your siblings have told! But did I give a shit? No! It was for you, everything was for you!” 

Ian held his head down and tears began to fall from his eyes. Mickey had been putting himself out there lately and Ian was so sorry he’d hurt him. All he wanted was Mickey’s trust back. Ian would’ve never fucked another guy in life, he just needed his Mickey. Forever. 

“…And I buy you this fucking chain too,” Mickey said snatching it from Ian’s neck, “why the fuck would you do that to me?!”

But Ian never got the chance to answer him. Mickey had looked up and past Ian with a terrified look in his eyes, which made Ian turn and look to see what Mickey was so afraid of. It was Terry Milkovich, standing in the doorway.

“You faggots still fucking huh?” He asked with a disgusted tone, not seeking an answer. 

And then punched Mickey in his face.

To Be Continued…


	10. This Is What You Get!

Terry Milkovich had been shooting pool and drinking with a few of his friends down at the Alibi, so he was pretty hammered driving home. When he walked through his front door, he heard his son yelling and his daughter moaning. Uh, what the fuck was going on in his house? Mickey was yelling...at a Gallagher? Was that, that faggot ass Peter Pan look-a-like he heard whining about what he'd done? Terry listened closer. He heard a few thumps and Ian was coughing. What about 15 minutes? And then, wait what? You told him how you felt, and that you loved him? And you meant the shit too? Was that fag crying? He couldn't take this shit anymore, that fag motherfucker was no longer his son. No longer a fucking Milkovich. He walked into Mickey's doorway and glared at him when he looked up. And then that ass-digging redhead turned around and he lost it, his mind filling with the images of Ian fucking Mickey on the couch.

"You faggots still fucking huh?" He said disgusted and then punched Mickey in his face, causing him to fly onto his bed. 

Terry turned around and closed the door behind him, and then punched Ian in his face too. 

Ian put his guard up, and he and Terry began fighting. He punched Terry in the nose, trying to break it, but was unsuccessful. He then sent a left elbow to Terry's right jaw and then Terry kneed Ian in the stomach, hard. With all the wind knocked out of him, Ian fell to his knees, as Mickey got up from the bed. 

Mickey knew he was gonna have to do it, to fight his dad. But Terry was no longer his father. He was the enemy. And no matter what Ian had done, no matter how bad he'd hurt Mickey, he wasn't gonna let Terry hurt him. Ian was his everything. 

But Mickey was also so tired of Terry's bullshit. Tired of him making snide comments about his forced marriage and tired of Terry calling him that word. Mickey had found happiness in his life, happiness with Ian, and it wasn't his fault. He didn't choose to fall in love with Ian, and he didn't choose to feel the way he did when Ian came around him. He was tired of feeling bad for who he was. Mickey didn't wanna change and he no longer wanted to feel ashamed. He loved Ian, and he wanted to shout it to the world. 

Being around the Gallagher house and seeing how a real family is suppose to operate, had been an eye-opener for Mickey. He realized that all his life, it was love he'd been missing. Love. And now that he'd gotten it, fuck you Terry for trying to take it away. 

Mickey got up from the bed and ducked as Terry swung a right hook at him. While bent down, he punched Terry in his stomach four quick times, before Terry kneed him in the chin, making him stand back up straight. Mickey used all his force to push him into the door, which caused a loud booming noise. Terry then pushed Mickey onto the bed, got on top of him, and started whaling off on his face. He began taunting Mickey as he punched him. 

"This is what you get!" Terry yelled as he pinned Mickey down, "You faggot ass, cock-sucking, motherfucker! I hope it was worth it! You fucking make me sick!"

"Fuck you! Get the fuck off of him!" A voice yelled. 

It was Ian, back on his feet. He rushed over to where Terry was beating his Mickey and jumped onto that motherfucker's back. Ian tried choking him with his right arm, but it was no use, Terry was so much bigger than them both. He flipped Ian over his head, sending him crashing into the bedroom wall. Ian hit his head on Mickey's nightstand, which caused him to pass out. Terry just laughed at the sight and continued beating the shit out of Mickey. 

Mickey's head was turned to the side and Terry punched his temple, rendering him unconscious. And even though Mickey wasn't moving, and was bleeding, profusely, from his nose and his mouth, Terry just kept hitting him.

And then Mickey's bedroom door opened.

"What the fuck?!" Mandy screamed out in horror.

5 minutes earlier...

"Oh shit! Oh fuck! Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm, ahhh fuck Lip!"

Mandy and Lip were butt naked in her room, in the middle of one of their heated sessions. Mandy was on all fours getting fucked doggystyle and Lip was behind her, stroking fast and hard. He was so sweaty and his big arms were flexed because he was gripping Mandy's waist so tight. She flipped her hair all to one side, put her head down, and threw her ass back, taking all of what Lip had to offer. 

"Mmmm, mmmm, fuck Mandy," Lip moaned, "come get on top."

They switched positions and Mandy started riding Lip, rocking her hips back and forth. As she looked into his pretty blue eyes, he lifted her higher, and began fucking her from underneath. Lip was going so fast, his balls were slapping against her ass and she was about to cum. 

"Oh fuck! I'm about to cum!" Mandy screamed. 

Told you. 

"Oh s-shit, I'm gonna cum too!" Lip moaned out. 

**BOOM! They heard a crash. 

Lip had stopped fucking and Mandy had stopped riding. The noise scared them both. 

"What was that?" Lip asked, looking up at Mandy.

She was still on top of him, and he was still inside of her. It was crazy how Lip could always keep his dick hard, even when he was distracted. 

"I don't know. Shhh, listen." Mandy said, putting her index finger to her lips. 

When they heard muffled thumping and a voice they thought was Ian's say "get the fuck off of him," they both hurried to put on underwear. 

Mandy was at Mickey's door first, dressed in only a black bra and a pink pair of panties, she opened the door and was horrified at what she saw.

"What the fuck?!" She screamed. 

It was her dad and he was on top of Mickey, punching him over and over again. There was blood all over Mickey's face, and the way he laid there, not moving, he looked dead. Mandy ran at Terry and began hitting him on his head with both her fists. 

"Stop! Stop! Dad, what the fuck are you doing? Stop! Please! Stop!" 

Mandy pleaded as tears began falling from her eyes. She saw Ian sprawled out on the floor and he looked dead too. She felt so helpless and so afraid. She just wanted her brother and her best friend to be okay. To just not be dead. 

Terry slapped Mandy across the face with his left hand, causing her to fall next to Mickey onto his bed. Lip ran in then and tried to get Terry off, but he punched Lip in the stomach, pushed him back into the hallway, and locked him out of the room. 

Mandy was still on the bed, and when Terry turned back around, she kicked him in the face. He was so drunk and enraged that he pinned her down, just like he'd done Mickey, and began punching her too. Mandy was yelling out in pain as Lip was trying to break the door down. 

It seemed so dark on the other side of that door, and all Lip could hear was himself banging against it. He also heard Terry hitting Mandy and Mandy screaming for her life. He had to hurry up and get in there, before it was too late.

And then Lip heard a gunshot. 

To Be Continued...


	11. There's Been An Accident...

"Mandy? Mandy?! Are you okay? Mandy!" 

Lip had stopped banging against the door. He was only turning the knob, but was that really suppose to unlock it? So scared of what was on the other side, he didn't know if he wanted to go in or not. After the gunshot rang out, he had stopped hearing Mandy scream. He didn't hear Terry hitting her anymore either. Lip didn't hear anything. But what the hell had happened? He didn't know. He just wanted her to be okay, and the silence was even worse than her screams had been. At least when she was screaming he knew she was alive. 

Lip stopped playing with the knob when he felt someone unlocking it from the inside. The door opened and it was Mandy, still in only her bra and panties, covered in blood. She fell into Lip's arms and began crying, and he held onto her as they both dropped to their knees. Mandy was a tough girl and all, but she was devastated. She had killed her father.

Lip reached into his jeans' pocket and flipped open his cellphone. 

"911, what's your emergency?" The female dispatcher asked in a robotic tone. 

"There's been an accident...a shooting." 

When the woman on the phone assured Lip that help was on the way and to not touch anything, he ran in to help Ian. But getting a closer look at the scene made him pause, that shit was fucking gruesome. 

There was blood everywhere. Splattered onto the ceiling, all over Mickey's posters and walls, there was a pool of it on the bed, and cast-off drops on the lamps. Everywhere. Lip had never seen so much blood. 

Terry was lying face down with part of his head hanging off Mickey's bed. He wasn't moving and there was dark blood pooling around his torso. A closer look would reveal a gaping hole more towards the right side of his chest. Terry Milkovich had been shot at close range with his own pistol. Mickey was next to him, but more so where the pillows were suppose to be, laying on his back with his head turned to the side. There was blood all over his face and a steady flow of more coming from his nose. His right eye was already as swollen as it could get and his left was well on it's way. And then there was Ian. He was just lying there. His limbs sprawled out in different directions like he was a fucking rag doll. His face wasn't as bloody as Mickey's, but it was just as swollen, and he wasn't moving either. 

"Ian man, c'mon bro. Wake up." 

Lip was bent down shaking Ian's face slightly and Mandy was sitting on the hallway floor, crying. She couldn't bear to be in that room right now, not even to help Mickey. The smell was unlike anything else, she could actually smell death in the air. 

Lip was almost in tears begging him to wake up. Seeing his little brother like that was way too much for him. Ian looked dead, and so he started shaking him harder.

"Ian c'mon," Lip's voice cracked and a single tear fell from his eye, "wake up. Please. Just wake up man." 

"Lip?" Ian asked weakly, his eyes still closed. 

Lip let out a relieved laugh and rubbed his thumb against Ian's cheek. 

"Yeah." He said smiling, "I'm right here Ian. There's help on the way." 

Ian opened his eyes and as they focused, he remembered where he was and what had happened. He was dizzy as shit and had the world's worst headache, but he could see there was blood on the ceiling. And then he remembered the last thing he saw, Terry on top of Mickey. 

"W-where's Mickey?" Ian asked groggily.

"He's alive, but he's-" 

Lip stopped. 

"He's what?" Ian asked, starting to panic and trying to stand to his feet. 

He stumbled back and forth until he was balanced enough to stand up straight, and then he saw him. Ian's adrenaline began rushing as soon as he saw Mickey in that condition. His mind became crystal clear and his strength was completely restored. He hurried to the bed and payed Terry's lifeless body no mind. All he'd seen was his Mickey. Ian sat down on his' left side of Mickey and reached up to grab his face. 

"Mickey," he said, rubbing his cheek and stroking his hair, "Mickey you're fine. You hear me? Mickey I'm so sorry I hurt you."

He'd seen Mickey bloody and bruised before, but never no shit like this. It was like Ian was looking at himself, his other half, all beaten and broken. The missing piece to his puzzle, ruined. 

Ian's eyes began to water. This was all his fault. If he hadn't of fucked Nick, he wouldn't of been here in the first place. And then Mickey would be okay and Terry would still be alive. Fuck, what had he done? He knew it was too late to think about that, but it wasn't too late for something else. Ian promised himself right then, he would never hurt Mickey again, so long as they both shall live.

"Mickey, I know you can hear me. Mickey please wake up. I'm so sorry, you know I am. I'll never hurt you again, I promise. I love you Mickey please." 

Lip had walked back into the hall and was consoling Mandy, but hearing his brother plead like that was breaking his heart. He wanted Mickey to be okay more than Ian did.

"You hear me? I love you so much Mickey, I do. I love you so so much Mickey please." 

Tears were falling from Ian's eyes and dropping onto Mickey's bloody work uniform. And then Mickey's eyes opened, as wide as they could with the swelling. 

"I love you too," Mickey coughed out, "but this shit ain't over Gallagher." 

Ian let out the same relieved laugh Lip had made when he'd woken up. He bent down and kissed Mickey on his lips, who then pulled his head back. 

"Sfff, ah fuck." Mickey moaned out in pain. 

His lip was busted in two places and so he was in no condition to be kissing. Ian recognized his wounds and backed up a bit. 

"Oh shit, sorry Mick." He said, still stroking Mickey's hair. 

Ian was so relieved, so fucking happy. 

And even though his mouth hurt like a bitch, Mickey pulled Ian's face back down close to his, lightly pressed his lips against Ian's, and then smiled the slightest smile. They were together and they were alive, and that was all that mattered. 

Six squad cars, three ambulances, and two crime scene investigators arrived then. The accident that greeted them, wasn't one they'd prepared for. I mean yeah, it was Chicago, and yeah, this was the South-Side, but damn, this shit was unreal.

Mandy was the confessed shooter from the beginning, so they took her in to make a formal statement. She wasn't placed under arrest just yet because the police needed answers, and she could only tell them so much. After Mickey and Ian were treated at the hospital and released, they were escorted to the police station to help fill in the blanks of Mandy's story. The detectives couldn't do much but believe them though. All of the kids were bruised and swollen, and DNA from Terry's fist would later reveal blood samples from both his son and daughter. 

The next day the coroner completed the autopsy and concluded that Terry's gunshot wound was the result of self defense. A blood splatter specialist and the two CSI's examined Mickey's room and found the same thing, evidence of self-defense. The incident wasn't her fault, it was all just a tragic accident. 

With the investigation closed, Mandy was free to go home. It was all over.

As irresponsible as he might've seemed, Terry had actually had a will written up that gave Mickey the deed and rights to the Milkovich house. His only real valuable possession in the world and he left it to Mickey, oh the irony. 

A few days had passed and Ian was home, having just gotten back from Terry's funeral. Dressed in a white shirt and a black tie, he was in his room, packing some of his stuff to take over to Mickey's. Fiona walked in then, and had a worried look on her face. 

"Ian, I don't want you staying over there." She said. 

"There's nothing to be scared of Fi. I'm alright, and I'm gonna be fine." 

He was trying to convince her as best he could, but either way he was gonna go. He always was so stubborn.

"I don't know Ian." Fiona said, the worry still in her voice, "I mean, do you really wanna be in that house after what happened?" 

"What, you believe in ghosts?" Ian said smiling, trying to lighten the mood. 

"No. I'm just saying, I'm worried-"

Ian grabbed Fiona by both her hands and looked her dead in the eye. 

"Fi, please. Don't worry. It was fucked up, it was. But it's over now and we're okay. We're free." 

Fiona put her head down, looked back up at Ian, and smiled. 

"You really do love him huh?" 

"More than anything." Ian said, shaking his head and smiling. 

"Okay. Well, just be safe." 

"Fi, it's only a few blocks away. Call whenever! And we'll be around all the time too, so don't worry!" 

"Okay, okay. I love you Ian." She said, hugging him. 

"I love you too Fi." He said hugging her back, and then left for Mickey's. 

Once the crime scene was cleared and all the evidence had been gathered, Lip had hired a cleaning crew to go over to the Milkovich house and take care of everything. The house was as clean as it had ever been, and he payed for it himself. He and Mandy had also came together and gotten Mickey a new mattress. A mattress that he definitely needed. 

Mickey had also filed for divorce and Svetlana had since moved out. She went back to the brothel, or the whore-house, or wherever the fuck she had came from. It wasn't any of their concern either, the commie bitch had gotten an abortion two months earlier.

Ian walked in to find Mickey home alone, sitting on the edge of his new bed, still dressed all in his black suit. He was just sitting there, quiet. His forehead was resting on his left hand, and he didn't notice Ian when he came into the room. 

"You okay Mick?" 

Mickey's head popped up from his hand and he started smiling at the sight of Ian.

"Yeah man. I'm just tired." He said, exhaling loudly.

"Here," Ian said, dropping his bag and reaching his hand out, "Let's take a shower, and then we'll go to sleep."

Mickey grabbed Ian's hand, stood up from the bed, and followed him into the bathroom. Ian adjusted the hot water as Mickey slid the last of his clothes off. Once in the tub, Mickey stood in front of Ian with his back to the shower head. He grabbed onto Ian, locking both his arms around his waist, and Ian used his left hand to hold the small of Mickey's back, and his right to stroke his hair. They just stood there, letting the steamy water run over them both. Mickey nestled his head into Ian's chest closer and cried the last tears he would ever cry for Terry Milkovich. Ian kissed the top of his head and continued holding him, until he had no tears left to cry. Sure, Terry was an asshole, the most hateful asshole that ever lived. But he was still Mickey's dad...and Ian understood that.

"It's okay Mickey," he said still stroking his hair, "I'm here." 

To Be Continued...


	12. Fuck Mickey! What The Fuck?

9:48 a.m.

Ian had been living with Mickey for the past five days, and today was the first Saturday morning they'd spent together. Lip wasn't officially moved in, but he hadn't left Mandy's side since that night. She was doing better by the way. She had Lip, so she would be fine. Mickey woke up and found Ian not by his side. He reached over to his nightstand, grabbed a cigarette from the half-empty box, put it in his mouth, and lit it up. He walked naked into his connecting bathroom and took a piss. After he brushed his teeth and put some clothes on, he sparked up another cigarette, and went to look for Ian. Mickey walked into the kitchen, and there he was, making him breakfast in his t-shirt and striped boxers. 

"Mornin' Mick." Ian said with a smile. 

"Gallagher." He answered back plainly, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out.

Ian walked over to Mickey and tried kissing him, but was rejected. Mickey then pulled a seat out at the table, sat down, and smirked at Ian. 

For the past three days, Mickey had been going out of his way to give Ian the cold shoulder. Mickey had wanted to confront that motherfucker he saw Ian with in the cooler, but according to Ian, he was "sick" and wouldn't be back at work until noon, today. It was a bunch of bullshit if you asked Mickey, but Ian swore it was the truth. 

All Mickey's hurt had turned to anger, he was fucking pissed. Ian had been fucking someone else and he hadn't seen the motherfucker's face either? He could've been anybody. 

Ian had noticed the change in him, since the day Mickey had asked about confronting Nick. So for the past three days, Ian had been especially nice. He knew why Mickey was acting the way he was, and he thought cooking him breakfast would make him forget about Nick working later. But Mickey knew that was why Ian was up doing it, to distract him, and so he thought he might have some fun. See how far Ian was willing to go to keep him distracted. 

"You're making eggs too, right?" Mickey asked, sounding annoyed but really wasn't. 

What a fucking asshole. 

"Sure Mick. Anything you want." 

Mickey made an obnoxious noise as Ian walked to the refrigerator and got out the carton of eggs. He was acting like a douchebag, but Ian just ignored him. Mickey was still sitting, smoking his cigarette, and watching him close, like Ian was his servant. After he cracked the first egg into a bowl, Mickey stopped him. 

"Come here right quick." He said, using his neck to motion Ian over. 

Ian did as Mickey asked and came and stood in front of him. Mickey looked Ian up and down, and then smirked again. 

"Don't you think you're a little over dressed?"

"Uh...no?" Ian answered hesitantly. 

He only had two articles of clothing on, that wasn't his definition of "over dressed."

"Take that shit off Gallagher." Mickey said with his cigarette between his lips. 

Ian blushed. 

"But Lip and Mandy are still-"

"I don't give a fuck, this is my fucking house," Mickey said, interrupting Ian and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, "now take that shit off!" 

Ian liked how aggressive Mickey was being. Lately, Mickey had been so sweet to him, so seeing him with his old Milkovich attitude was turning Ian on. 

All he could do was oblige and once he was naked, Mickey told him to continue cooking his eggs. It was turning Ian on even more to have Mickey watch him like this, and his dick started to get hard. As he walked Mickey his plate over, Mickey pushed Ian's boner down, and watched it pop back up. 

"Damn Gallagher, the fuck's got you all excited?" 

"I-I don't know man." Ian said putting his head down and laughing. 

All he could do was laugh, it wasn't his fault. Mickey got turned on then and kinda softened up. Seeing Ian smiling and naked was just too much for him to try and stay mad at. Ian was so perfect in Mickey's eyes. Perfect, except for the fact that he'd fucked that motherfucker behind his back.

Mickey still wasn't letting that shit go, not just yet. 

Mickey had cleared his plate and Ian came to take it from him. As he was putting all the dirty dishes into the sink, Mickey came up behind him, and turned Ian around so that they were facing each other. He grabbed Ian by his waist and lifted him onto the countertop next to the sink. 

Ian loved when Mickey picked him up like that. Mickey might've been shorter, but he was just as strong. Shit, he was stronger. 

Mickey started kissing Ian. He forced his mouth open and used his own tongue to massage Ian's. Mickey grabbed onto Ian's face, and their heads started moving wildly. Ian was pulling Mickey's hair and now both their dicks were hard. Hard as fucking bricks. 

Lip walked in then.

"Jesus Christ!" He said, covering his eyes, "y'all have a bedroom!"

All he'd wanted was his cold morning beer, but Lip saw a lot more than that walking into the kitchen. Ian was naked and they both had boners, and both their dicks were bigger than his. Even his little brother's? What kinda shit was that? 

"Excuse me _Phillip_ , but I thought you were in my fucking house?" Mickey asked in a patronizing tone.

The way Mickey said "Phillip" made Ian laugh, and Lip really couldn't argue with what Mickey said. He just got his beer and walked away. 

"Yeah, I thought so!" Mickey yelled into the hallway. "Come on, let's go," he said talking back to Ian.

Ian hopped off the counter and Mickey slapped his ass as he walked past him. Ian was pretty sure he was about to be the bottom, but he didn't mind. Just so long as Mickey wasn't thinking about Nick. Little did Ian know, Nick was all that was on Mickey's mind. 

10:32 a.m.

They started kissing again, just like they had been in the kitchen, wild and unpredictable. Ian lifted Mickey's shirt off of him as Mickey slid his own boxers to the ground. Ian grabbed onto Mickey's dick and started playing with it, while at the same time, was kissing his chest. Ian kissed his way over until he was sucking on Mickey's left nipple. Mickey began moaning out in pleasure and grabbed the back of Ian's head, pulling his hair. Ian gradually made his way down Mickey's stomach, kissing his sides and hips too, until he found himself on his knees with one of Mickey's balls in his mouth. They were so fucking big and hung so damn low, one was all he could fit at a time. Ian was still jacking him off with his right hand, until Mickey made it clear he wanted a blowjob. 

"Put that fucking dick in your mouth." Mickey told him as he backed up to sit on the edge of his bed. 

Ian was sucking Mickey's dick slow, with his left hand on the base. Mickey moved his hand away and forced Ian to suck deeper, guiding him with a fistful of red hair. He pushed Ian's head down until there was about an inch and a half of dick not in his mouth. Ian gagged.

"Jesus Mickey, you tryna fucking kill me?" He said coughing.

"Ha! Nah man, that shit feels fucking good," Mickey said laughing, "do it again." 

Ian shook his head, "I can't go that deep Mick."

"You were almost there, just try it again." 

The look Mickey gave him made Ian wanna take it all, and then some. He tried his best, but got less the second time and gagged again. His eyes started to water, and even though it was making him harder, Mickey didn't force him to do it again. 

"It's too big for you or what?" Mickey said smiling. 

Ian laughed, spit on Mickey's dick, and then started stroking it again.

"Fucking look at it Mick." He said still laughing.

Mickey's dick was almost as long as Ian's, but he definitely had him beat by girth. That extra thickness made Mickey's dick look fucking huge. Ian loved his dick. More than any other dick he'd ever had. Ever. 

"Yeah, I know you fucking love that shit. Do that thing you do with your tongue." Mickey said, licking his bottom lip. 

Ian ran his tongue up the back of Mickey's dick, circled around the tip, licked down the front, then back up the left side, circled the tip again, and back down the right.

"Sfff, ahhh!" Mickey moaned out in a higher pitch as Ian did it again. His dick-head was super sensitive. 

Mickey sat up and reached over Ian's shoulder to grab a handful of his ass. Ian's butt was the perfect mix of hard muscle and soft flesh, and the way his back was slightly arched, ugh. Ian was fucking perfect. Mickey stuck his finger in his mouth to get it wet, and began playing with Ian's ass. He circled around Ian's tight pink hole, feeling his warmth and softness, and then stuck his index finger in, until the "k" in "fuck" was no longer visible. 

"Ahhh, fuck Mick." Ian moaned out. 

Mickey had gotten carried away and forgot he was suppose to be mad. He still hadn't let that shit go though, and so Ian didn't deserve to get any pleasure from him. He'd gotten enough of that from that motherfucker in the cooler. 

Mickey sat back and left Ian's ass alone. He grabbed another handful of red hair, but this time, made Ian suck faster. Ian could do faster. 

"Ohhh fuck," Mickey moaned, gripping the mattress, "suck that fucking dick." 

Mickey let Ian's hair go but placed both his hands on the back of his neck. He then stood to his feet, and began fucking the shit out of Ian's face. He was going fast as hell, and Ian tried taking it all, but ended up gagging again. Mickey then let his neck go and told Ian to suck him at his own speed. 

"Ahhh shit, keep going. Don't fucking stop." Mickey commanded, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. 

Ian kept sucking until Mickey pulled his dick out of his mouth, and started jacking himself off. Usually he would warn Ian if he was about to cum, but not today. Not while he was still pissed at him. Ian thought he probably should've moved, but he wasn't sure, not until after it was too late. 

"A-ahhh f-fuckkk Gallagher!" Mickey moaned out as he shot cum all over Ian's face. 

It was a lot of fucking cum too, and he knew how mad Ian would be. But that was the point, Ian deserved it. And now at least, Mickey wasn't mad at him anymore. This was way, way better than just beating the shit out of him.

"Fuck Mickey! What the fuck?" Ian said backing up.

He HATED cum on his face and Mickey knew that. Ian was fucking pissed. 

"Oh, my bad." Mickey said, wiping his hands on a towel and tossing it to Ian. "Now get dressed, we're gonna go see your little friend at the Kash & Grab." 

Ian looked up and saw Mickey had that same stupid smirk on his face, and knew then, he'd been played. 

Such a fucking asshole. 

12:15 p.m. 

Ian was nervous the whole car ride there. Ever since Terry died, Mickey had been driving his truck, and so they made it there in no time. He didn't know if Mickey was gonna go crazy and wind up back in jail. (He was too old for juvie this time around, so he'd be gone a lot longer). Ian just wanted him to let it go, and he knew that was never gonna happen, not if this little meeting never occurred. 

Here goes nothing. 

When they walked into the Kash & Grab, Nick was bent down with his headphones on, stocking a shelf, with his back to the door. Mickey was about to hit him while he was still turned around, but Ian grabbed his arm to stop him. Mickey was so enraged seeing this motherfucker, this boyfriend fucker, that he didn't care about sneaking up on him or not. He waited though, only because of Ian's touch. 

"Nick!" Ian yelled so he could hear him and would turn around.

Nick looked up and took his headphones off. He stood to his feet, and had a surprised look on his face. 

"Nick, this is-" Ian started.

"Milkovich?" Nick asked, cutting Ian off. 

"Trahan?" Mickey asked back. All his anger had turned to shock, and the surprise was obvious in his voice.

Ian was more than confused.

"Wait, wait...you two know each other?" 

To Be Continued...


	13. Just Do It.

"Milkovich! Nguyen! Anderson! Barnett! Trahan! Stephens!" Derrick, the night-shift guard, yelled as he opened the three cell doors, "Showers! And y'all better hurry the fuck up!" 

Mickey had been in juvie for the past three months, Nick had just gotten back there last week, and they were both in for the same reason, violating probation. Mickey had assaulted an officer on duty, and Nick had broken his curfew and, aided and abetted in robbery with a firearm. It wasn't either of their first times here, so they were pretty used to this shithole of a detention center. All the boys stayed two, to a cell, and there were ten cells in each room. The cells were small, cold, cement-wall rooms, fitted with a steel door, that had a small window, that only opened with the guard's key. There were two rectangular slabs in the rooms that served as beds, and the boys were given a small pillow and blanket, (like that made sleeping on the shit any better). Each cell also had it's on toilet/sink, but at night when it was time for their daily showers, the boys had to be let out six at a time, and use the one-room shower. There was only one shower with a curtain, and on certain nights, Nick was the only one allowed to use it. And tonight was one of those nights. Nick had also been moved into Mickey's cell at his own request. He was fucking Derrick, so he had certain privileges, and could pretty much do whatever he wanted around here. After their showers, all the boys were put back in their cells, and the lights were cut off. The cells were completely dark, except for the dim light coming through the small window of the door. 

"So you really gonna keep playing this game?" 

Nick had heard certain rumors about Mickey Milkovich and the "things" he could do. He'd seen Mickey naked and knew that rumor was true, but finding about the others would require further investigation. Nick had tried his usual way of figuring out if a guy was really gay. He'd tried giving Mickey the look, and tried letting Mickey catch him staring. Nothing. All his attempts usually ended with him getting cussed out, but Nick wasn't giving up. He knew Mickey was gay, he'd fucked Nick's best friend two weeks earlier. 

"Fuck you talking 'bout?" Mickey responded back, sounding defensive and a little pissed off. 

He thought he might have an idea, dude had been staring at his dick in the shower and giving him goggly eyes all week. Fucking fag. 

"C'mon Milkovich, lemme see how big that dick gets." Nick said, sitting up on his bed. 

Mickey was kinda taken back, was this shit a set-up or what? And Jesus Christ, this motherfucker couldn't be any more forward.

"The fuck you say?" Mickey asked, turning his head to left. 

"I know you're tired of jacking off," Nick said, laughing out loud, "I been hearing you at night." 

Fuck, Mickey had been jacking off a lot lately. Ever since his usual warm-mouth had been released, he'd been horny as hell. Guess Nick hadn't been sleep after all. Had he been fucking listening?

"C'mon Milkovich," Nick continued, "I wanna see how you taste." 

This dude had a real fetish for swallowing, and with him being so forward, saying all this shit, Mickey's blood started rushing. 

"Dude you're a fucking fag, I swear." Mickey said, still laying down. 

Nick paused.

"So why haven't you whopped my ass?" 

Mickey didn't respond. 

"...Maybe you do wanna whoop it. Maybe you wanna do more than that to it." Nick said, in a flirtatious way. 

He stood up from his "bed" and walked over to Mickey. Nick ran his hand down Mickey's chest, feeling down to his crotch, and putting a hand on his semi-hard dick. Mickey grabbed Nick's arm, stood up from his own slab, and pushed him back onto his side of the cell. 

"Fucking faggot! Don't fucking touch me!" Mickey spat at Nick. 

God he was good. Nick would've really thought he was straight. He knew better though, and he wanted to fuck. 

"Drop the act Milkovich, forreal. I mean it was kinda cute at first, but you're starting to annoy me. Chill out bro, I just want ya' dick." 

Maybe it wasn't a set-up? And Mickey was horny as fuck. Shit, what should he do? What the fuck should he do?

"C'mon dude, I just felt you're kinda hard already too. Go ahead, pull it out bro." 

Whatever, if it was a set-up, he could definitely take Nick. And plus it would be Nick's word against his, and Nick wouldn't wanna get his ass beat a second time. 

Fuck it. 

Mickey dropped his white, county-issued boxer shorts to reveal his half-hard cock and his low hanging balls. Nick's eyes got wide and he laughed to himself. How did this little gangster white-boy pack so much meat in such a small package? And why the hell was it _still_ growing? 

"Fuck," Nick said smiling and dropping to his knees, "you got a nice ass dick Milkovich." 

Mickey just laughed and placed his hand on the back of Nick's head, and Nick could still feel Mickey's thick cock growing in his mouth as he starting sucking him off. 

"Oh fuck." Mickey said, biting his bottom lip. He hadn't got head this good since he last saw Gallagher.

Now that he was fully erect, Nick was moving up and down his shaft faster. And he was going deeper too. The amount of suction he had on Mickey's dick should've been illegal, and his tongue was licking the underside of his shaft at the same time. This dude could fucking suck dick. 

"Ahhh," Mickey moaned out, exhaling deeply, "suck them fucking balls too."

Nick started licking Mickey's balls, before lightly sucking on the left one, and then the right. No one ever could suck 'em both at once, and Mickey usually would've had them shaved, but razors weren't allowed in juvie. 

Nick then started using his tongue to lick Mickey's hairy taint, and the way he was reaching, he was acting like he wanted to give Mickey more than a blowjob. 

"Fuck Trahan! I said my balls."

"Shut the fuck up." Nick told him, and then put Mickey's cock back into his mouth. 

"Mmmm fuckkk dude." Mickey moaned out. 

He was deepthroating the hell out of Mickey's dick. Nick's nose was buried in Mickey's dark pubes and his throat was full of Mickey's throbbing cock. He held it there as Mickey slapped his face with his right hand. His eyes watered but he didn't gag. Nick never gagged. 

"Nasty motherfucker, suck that fucking dick." Mickey said, slapping Nick's face again. 

Mickey took his dick all the way out of Nick's throat, and then pushed it all the way back in. Still no gag. He did it again harder, and then harder, his dick getting wetter each time, but still no fucking gag. What the fuck? Mickey loved when guys choked on his cock, their eyes all red and shit. It made him feel powerful, like a fucking king. 

"I don't gag dude." Nick said smiling and jacking Mickey off. 

"I fucking see that." Mickey said laughing, "Suck my balls again."

"Wait, I wanna do something first." Nick said. "Turn around, get on all fours."

"Fuck you! I ain't no fucking bottom!" 

"I never said you were! And I'm not even tryna fuck you, so calm down." 

Mickey was looking down at Nick, not sure what to think.

"Just do it." Nick said, looking up at Mickey and smiling again. 

Fuck it.

"Don't try no funny shit, I swear. I'll rip your fucking throat out." Mickey said, getting on his "bed" and sticking his ass out. 

Nick spread Mickey's ass cheeks open and moved him so the light coming through the window would illuminate his hole. He took a moment to appreciate the view, Mickey's asshole was fucking gorgeous. And he'd just gotten out of the shower too? Nick spit directly onto Mickey's hole, like he'd done it a million times before, and began licking him thoroughly. He circled his tongue around clockwise, then counterclockwise, and back clockwise again. He spelled his name with it and did the alphabet too, and then dived his tongue in deep. 

"Sfff...Mmmm...Mmmm." Mickey was moaning low and whimpering, he missed having his ass played with. 

Nick started fucking him with his tongue. Sticking it out straight and stabbing Mickey with it. In and out, and, in and out. And from the way he arched his back, and threw his ass back, Nick was pretty sure Mickey was enjoying himself. Mickey grabbed the back of Nick's head, and made him tongue-fuck his hairy, pink hole faster. 

"Ahhh, ahhh, fuck." Mickey was moaning out loud now.

He stopped Nick then, he knew if he let him continue, he would've ended up having Nick fuck him, and he couldn't let that happen. No matter how bad he'd missed having a hard dick deep in his ass, he knew he just couldn't let the shit happen. Mickey turned over and resumed getting his dick sucked, Nick could suck him off all he wanted. 

"Hell yeah, now suck them fucking balls." Mickey commanded. 

His balls were fucking gorgeous too. They were sitting on the cement slab, hanging a little less low now, because they were growing full of cum. Nick started sucking them rougher this time, as Mickey slapped him in the face with his cock. Nick's dick was hard as hell, and he was ready to get fucked.

"You ready to get in this ass or what?" He asked, looking up at Mickey. 

Mickey only had unprotected sex with Ian, and he didn't have anymore condoms of his own.

"I would but uh- you got any rubbers?" Mickey asked.

Nick smiled and walked to his bed. Under his pillow he had four condoms and a bottle of lube, (gifts from the guard he was fucking). Nick had also cleaned himself too. That's why Derrick let him use the private shower tonight, he knew he was gonna be bottoming later. Or at least he'd hoped.

Nick dropped back down to his knees and sucked Mickey to get him back fully hard. As Nick lubed himself up, Mickey rolled the condom down his rock-hard cock, and then lubed himself up too. Nick laid down on his back and put his legs up, so they weren't touching Mickey. Mickey felt his way to Nick's slicked, tight hole and then tried entering him. 

"F-f-fuckkkk." Nick moaned, clenching his jaw down.

Mickey's dick was fucking **solid**. Nick had never had such a thick cock before. And was that just the head? That shit fucking hurt. 

"Ughhh Fuck." Nick moaned, as he started opening up, the burn beginning to subside. 

Mickey was going slow to get him started. He didn't give two fucks about this guy, but he knew all about bottoming, and he didn't wanna hurt him. His dick was pretty big, and Mickey knew the damage he could do.

"Mmmm, mmmm, sfff, ahhh." Nick was open, and enjoying it now.

"Yeah, take that dick." Mickey told him, as he started fucking faster. 

He switched Nick into doggy position so he wouldn't have to see him. Partly because it was less intimate, and partly because now, Mickey could fantasize about a certain someone else. 

Mickey had Nick's cheeks spread and was going balls deep in him with every thurst. Nick had his head down and was biting his knuckles, enjoying every minute of it. Mickey started fucking him at an angle, and that made Nick moan out. 

"Ahhh fuck Mick." 

Hearing Nick moan out his nickname like that, reminded Mickey of Ian. He had been missing that little fucker lately, and honestly, Mickey would've rather been fucking him. 

He closed his eyes and envisioned Ian's red hair, and how he looked in this position. The way he would arch his back. The muscles in his ass. The freckles all over his body. Ugh, and his green eyes. Mickey missed those beautiful green eyes. 

He grabbed onto Nick's waist and circled in him slowly, passionately. His eyes were shut tight and Ian's face was on his mind. He started rolling his hips and stroking in Nick, in a wave-type motion. 

"Mmmm, ahhh." Mickey moaned out loud. 

He started going faster, fantasizing Ian begging for his cock. He pressed his thumbs into Nick's lowers back and wrapped his fingers around Nick's waist. He was pounding again now, but he was doing it the way he would pound into Ian, purposefully, and not just for his own pleasure. His eyes were still shut, and Ian was all he could see. 

Nick had sensed the change in Mickey's sex, and thought he was on the verge of orgasm. 

"Let me know when you're gonna cum." Nick said, looking back at Mickey. 

Ugh! Ian was begging for his cum too? He couldn't handle this fantasy anymore, he was about to pop. 

"Come here, get down!" Mickey said, ripping the condom off and pulling on his dick. 

Mickey's eyes were still shut as he started jacking off, and Ian was still on his mind. Nick was on his knees, jacking his own cock, and waiting patiently for his reward. 

"Hell yeah, bust that shit." Nick said, sucking Mickey's balls again, trying to help speed things up a bit. 

Mickey's body started to shake and he couldn't stand straight. He threw his head back and moaned, as the hot sticky cum erupted from his heavy ball sac. 

"Ohhh f-f-fuckkk Iannn!" Mickey moaned out, biting his bottom lip. 

The first squirt of cum shot over Nick's head and onto his blanket, and the second actually hit the wall. More cum came shooting out at less distance, and into Nick's open mouth. Some shot to the back of his throat, forcing him to close his mouth and swallow, and so the rest that came oozing out, ended up all over his lips and chin. Mickey jacked the last of his cum out, and flung the final drops off, that were stuck to the tip. 

Mickey used his right finger to clean all his cum off of Nick's chin, and then stuck it in Nick's mouth, so he could swallow that load too. 

"Don't waste none of that shit." Mickey said, still biting his bottom lip as Nick sucked his index finger clean. "You nasty motherfucker." 

Nick smiled. 

"You taste so fucking good bro." 

Mickey turned around and chuckled, and then laid down in his bed. All theses fags fucking loved his cum. He couldn't blame them though, he had tried it a few times himself. Not bad, but he preferred Ian's taste. 

Whatever. Fuck it. 

It was 6 minutes after they'd both laid down and it had been completely quiet. Mickey had his back turned to Nick, and Nick was laying flat, with his arms behind his head. He turned to his right, and asked a question.

"Who's Ian?"

Mickey froze and his stomach dropped. He turned his head around and, if Nick could see him, had a pissed expression on his face. 

"What?" He asked defensively, the anger present in his voice.

"Ian." Nick said plainly. 

How the fuck did Trahan know about Gallagher? 

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." 

He didn't sound very convincing, and Nick knew Mickey was lying. 

"When you came you called me Ian, that's the name you moaned out. So I'm asking you..." Nick was hesitant, not wanting to piss Mickey off.

"Who's Ian?"

To Be Continued...


	14. We Need To Talk.

12:18 p.m.

"Damn! What the fuck's been up Milkovich?" Nick asked, reaching out and shaking Mickey's hand. 

"Uh, just been chillin' man. Working." Mickey answered, still in shock. 

The last time they'd seen each other was the day Nick was being released from juvie. After he came from his trial, he had to pack up all his belongings in his cell, and as Derrick stood guard, Nick had a final go with Mickey, (a quick blowjob for one last taste of his cum). Nick had given Mickey a blowjob almost every night since their first time together. He fucking loved Mickey's dick, his balls and tonguing his asshole too. Nick was gonna miss fucking him. Mickey was released a week later and had never expected to see him again, and now not only was he seeing Nick, but he looked better than ever. All buff and shit, with his mustache grown, and hair cut short. Mickey wouldn't have minded getting another one of those blowjobs, he actually kinda missed Nick's throat. 

Ian had tried to explain that it was Nick who had threw himself at him, but Mickey wasn't buying it. But after seeing who exactly it was Ian had been fucking, Mickey understood. He knew Nick was a cum-swallowing, cock-hungry, bottom, so he probably did throw himself at Ian. But seeing that it was Nick also made Mickey harden up, his straight act automatically kicking in. 

"So wassup Red?" Nick asked, confused at the sight of them both, "You're not scheduled 'til tomorrow...and why was you tryna introduce me to him?" 

Ian still didn't know what was going on, but looking at Mickey's face and seeing he wasn't about to beat Nick's ass, he knew he was missing something. He hadn't expected to be asked that, and didn't wanna say the wrong thing. 

"Ummm, I just uh-" Ian couldn't think of shit to say, "uhhh..."

Mickey just stood there too, he was still so shocked. Like what the fuck were the chances? On one hand, he wasn't so pissed anymore because he'd known the motherfucker all along, and knew now it really was just sex between him and Ian. But on the other hand, he was still taking in the fact that it was Nick FUCKING Trahan. It was like seeing a teacher outside of school. Or like seeing your ex-boyfriend, looking better than ever. Ian turned to Mickey for some help, but he was just as stuck, and was no help at all. 

Nick raised both his eyebrows and extended his neck out, shaking it slightly, waiting for an answer. 

"I just thought you guys should meet." Ian said the first thing that popped into his mind, "You both do security and would've never met otherwise, so..." 

There, that sounded convincing enough. 

"Uh huh." Nick said, knowing it was bullshit. 

Maybe not? 

There was an awkward silence as both Mickey and Ian looked at Nick. Ian then looked at Mickey, and then back at Nick and remembered, he too never got an answer to his question. 

"So how do you two know each other again?" 

Mickey looked down, biting the corner of his bottom lip and Nick laughed out loud to himself. 

"We uh, met in juvie," Nick said smiling, "we got pretty close."

Mickey felt things getting way too awkward and decided it was time to leave. 

"Alright man well, I'll uh, see you around," Mickey said, walking towards the door, "c'mon Ian, we gotta go grab that thing for Mandy." 

"Alright Milkovich, see you 'round." he said, flirting with him. 

Nick started to put his headphones back on, but stopped, when he got the sweetest epiphany. Mickey and Ian were almost out the door when he shouted, almost. 

"No!" He said, grinning in realization, "This is Ian? Like that Ian?" 

This World was just too fucking small. 

Mickey's pale skin turned a bright red, and he wanted nothing more but to run out of the Kash & Grab. Back in juvie when Nick asked him, Mickey cussed him out and called him a "fucking liar." Naturally, it had only made Nick more curious as to who this "Ian" was, because Milkovich was the type to fuck dudes, not fall for them. 

Ian looked confused, "What is he talking about?" 

"I don't know, he's a fucking liar." Mickey answered back way too quick. 

Nick laughed out loud again, who was the real liar here? As he looked at how tense and red Mickey was, things became even more clear. Nick's eyes got wide and his mouth opened as he gasped. 

"Y'all two go together," he gasped again, "...and you (referring to Ian) must've told him about us...and so he came to fight me...but once he got here and saw it was me-" 

Nick hunched over in laughter, this shit was fucking crazy.

"Goddamn, this shit is fucking crazy," Nick said catching his breath, "so what, you jealous Milkovich? Should we take this outside?" Nick asked jokingly. 

"Fuck you Trahan! I don't gott-"

"Calm down, calm down, I'm fucking playing. Look at you, all riled up for no reason. It was just sex Jesus. Red is fucking sexy, I just couldn't help myself." 

Mickey didn't appreciate that shit, complimenting his Ian in front of him. And he fucking nick-named him too?

"Red?!" Mickey spat in disgust, looking at Ian, "you fucking let him call you that?" 

Ian's mouth dropped slightly, and he answered Mickey without answering him. Nick smirked, he loved the drama he was causing. 

"Don't fucking make that face." Mickey barked at Nick. 

"What? Your boyfriend could've pushed me off if he wanted to, I didn't force him! Shit, he told me to lock the doors." 

Ian slapped his hand against his face, what a fucking snitch. 

Usually Mickey would've been pissed at someone using that word, but that's what Ian was, his boyfriend. That, and so much more. 

Mickey grabbed Ian by the back of his neck and pulled him in close to kiss him. Really, it was more than a fucking kiss. Mickey's head had started bent to the right, but by the time they were done, his head had bent left and back, and then left again. Their tongue's were moving into the other's mouth, and Mickey was holding Ian's lower back. The sight turned Nick on and pissed him off, all at the same time. He knew he'd never get to kiss either one of them, not like that, or even at all. 

"Yeah," Mickey said, looking to a gawking Nick, "he is my fucking boyfriend, and I don't want you touching him...not unless I'm around." 

Ian and Nick made the same confused face, at the same exact time. The fuck did that mean? 

"What do you-" Nick started to ask, but was cut off. 

"Shut the fuck up and stock ya' damn shelf. We'll be seeing you around." Mickey said, as he grabbed Ian by the wrist and walked through the glass door. 

12:35 p.m. 

The ride back to Mickey's was just as quiet as the ride to the Kash & Grab had been. Ian didn't really know what Mickey was feeling and didn't wanna say the wrong thing, and piss him off even more. When they got home, Ian started making a frozen pizza, (he hadn't eaten breakfast, despite having cooked it in the nude). Mickey came into the kitchen and motioned Ian to walk to their room. He sat on the bed, as Mickey stood in front of him.

"What's up Mick?" Ian asked kinda nervous. 

"We need to talk." Mickey said. 

Fuck, nothing good ever came after those words.

"Okay so, you know I-I love you..." Mickey began. 

Oh God, why was he starting like that? 

"I love you too Mickey." 

Mickey smiled hearing Ian say it, and that made Ian feel a little less nervous. 

"...okay but uh, we've never talked you know? Like had that talk."

Jesus that's all he wanted? The world's heaviest weight was lifted off of Ian's shoulders, Mickey literally just wanted to talk. 

"Yeah, I know you don't like talking about that stuff, and I wasn't trying to get punched." Ian said laughing. 

Mickey laughed too. He had been pretty uncomfortable talking about it in the past, but Mickey was more accepting of himself these days, and thought it was time to finally set the record straight. 

"So what are we?" Mickey asked.

Ian paused. 

"Well I thought you were my boyfriend...until you took my chain from me." Ian said, sounding spoiled. 

Mickey still hadn't given him his gold chain back, Ian didn't deserve it. He really didn't deserve Mickey. 

"You've never asked me out Gallagher, so you couldn't have thought that!" Mickey shouted playfully, "And you'll get it back when I'm ready to give it back. You gotta earn it." 

"How am I suppose to do that?" 

Mickey shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. Ugh, he was adorable but he was being an ass. Well the chain would have to wait, but not this. 

"Mickey Milkovich," Ian said, kneeling to the ground like he was proposing, "will you be my boyfriend?" 

Mickey looked down and smiled, and began playing along. 

"Oh yes!" He answered, like an excited bride-to-be, "Yes! Yes, I'll be your boyfriend." 

That was another reason Ian loved Mickey so much, how Mickey joked and came alive around him. No one ever got to see this side of Mickey, but Ian didn't care, it made him feel even more special. He knew their love was real, that Mickey loved him above all others. 

They were joking with the whole proposal thing, but the context of it was real, and it meant the world to them both. They were officially official. Officially. 

Ian stood up and kissed Mickey, and then asked him a question. 

"What did you mean when you told Nick he could only touch me if you were around?" 

Mickey laughed, "The fuck it sounded like Gallagher?" 

Ian sat back on the bed, put his head down, and smiled. He was pretty sure he understood, but he didn't reply. 

"He suck ya' dick?" Mickey asked.

Ian looked up and saw Mickey smiling with one of his eyebrows raised, so he too must've spent some time in Nick's throat. 

"Oh my God," Ian said smiling, "that shit was fucking insane." 

"Ha! I know huh? Nasty motherfucker can really go deep!"

They both laughed, that was an understatement. 

"So you really wanna earn your chain back?" Mickey asked, sounding mischievous. 

Mickey knew how much Ian wanted it back, why was he playing?

"Mick don't do that! You know I do." 

"Okay, we'll see..." 

Mickey walked over to his drawer, got two items out, and then hid them behind his back. He walked back over to Ian, with a Carl-like grin on his face. 

"So, you really ready to get ya' shit back?" 

"Yes Mickey." Ian said, knowing he had something up his sleeve, or behind his back more importantly. 

"Okayyy." Mickey said like he knew Ian wouldn't be, and then revealed what he had hidden. A half-empty bottle of lube and a familiar string of black Ben Wa Balls. 

"I told you Mick, that's no fun for me." 

Mickey smirked, "It's gonna be fun today Gallagher." 

It took Ian a minute to understand, and then he got a look of terror on his face.

"No Mickey! Look at those fucking things! Hell no!" 

"You want ya' chain back or not? C'mon, I'll go slow." Mickey said, as his eyes widened. 

Fuck, Ian hated when Mickey made that face, and he knew he wasn't gonna get his gold chain back any other way. 

"Mick..." Ian said in a pleading tone. 

Mickey just bit his bottom lip and kept making that face, and Ian knew he wasn't gonna budge. Fuck.

Ian exhaled deeply and stood up to take his pants off. 

And by the time he would remember about his pepperoni pizza in the oven, it would be burnt to a crisp, and he would have three anal beads shoved deep in his ass. 

To Be Continued...


	15. Lucky? / Anything You Need.

"So did you ask him?"

"Jesus, I told you I texted him. He still hasn't replied." 

"Well call him! It's been like twenty minutes." 

"He's working dude, calm down. You're just gonna have to wait." 

Nick was trying to get Ian to convince Mickey to let him come over later. Nick had been wanting to fuck Ian again, but ever since he and Mickey had talked, Ian hadn't even let Nick suck him off. Mickey was officially his boyfriend, and he wasn't gonna fuck it up. Not for Nick, or anyone else. 

"Just text him one more time, please." He said smiling. 

Nick was so cute when he smiled, but he was starting to bug the shit out of Ian. Didn't he know shamelessly begging for his cock was rude? It wasn't a surprise though, anyone who ever got a piece of Ian always came back for more.

Ian exhaled like he was annoyed, rolled his eyes, and got his phone out. He pulled up the contact "Mick," and created a new message. 

You: Nick is like beggin 4 my dick! Wht do I do? 

Mick: dont fuckin let him touch u!!!

You: I havent Mick & I wont! He said he wants to come over later..

Mick: im pullin up to this house now. call you when im done.

You: Okay...boyfriend ;)

Mick: lol ok

Mick: ...boyfriend

Mickey had started moonlighting as a plumber/electrician. Working at the sewage company he'd learned a few new skills, and so he began making house calls on his days off to make some extra money. Now that he was in charge of the household, he needed to make more money for bills, food, etc. 

He pulled up to the big red-brick house in Lake Shore and got out of his truck, wide-eyed. This house was fucking huge, all these houses were big really, but this one was like the biggest on the block. Six white pillars in the front and it had a four-car garage too. Man, who the fuck stayed here? Even the welcome mat was fancy, black with a gold double border and a capital red cursive "D" in the middle. 

After he rang the doorbell, Mickey was greeted by a young white guy with a smile on his face. He was about Ian's height with short brown hair, and had the same color brown eyes. He had nice full lips and his face had that same innocence as Ian's. This kid was skinner than Ian though and way less muscular, but his arms looked like he might've done push-ups here and there. He had on a tight fitting graphic t-shirt and a pair of even tighter blue jeans, something Mickey could've seen Ian wearing. Mickey kinda liked what he saw, but would've never let that show. He was used to having to ignore how cute he thought a guy was. 

"Hey man, I appreciate you coming out! My parents would kill me if I didn't get this fixed before they came back!" 

It was all starting to make sense. When they spoke on the phone, the client had told Mickey his toilet had stopped working this past weekend. But seeing now that it was some kid who's parents were out of town, and it just so happened to be Spring Break, Mickey could only imagine what had really happened to that toilet. 

"Yeah, no problem dude." 

The brown-haired boy scanned Mickey from top to bottom. He looked fucking hot in his grey one-piece uniform that had his name stitched on the front. And with his sleeves rolled up to his biceps and the top open showing his chest hair, he looked just like an actor the boy had seen in a porno. He usually liked his men taller though, but it didn't matter. There was something about him, something about this "Mickey." 

The boy motioned Mickey into the beautiful three-story house and led him to the downstairs bathroom. He had thrown a party, since his parents would be gone for the next two weeks, and figured someone had broken the toilet then. Mickey started trying to diagnose the problem as the boy stood in the doorway and began making conversation with him, observing Mickey closely. Or his ass at least.

"So you uh, see what the problem is?" He asked as Mickey lifted the back cover off, and looked inside the toilet. 

"Nah, I'm trying to figure that out now." 

"Okay cool man. So uh, how long you been doing this?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation going. 

"Couple weeks. Gotta have a side hustle you know? Keep the cash coming in." 

The boy nodded, but Mickey figured a little rich kid like him knew nothing about working. He'd had his silver spoon since day one, and never had to work for anything in life. He didn't know what real stress was. 

"Yeah man, totally." The boy said, trying to sound cool. 

Mickey laughed to himself. This kid was obviously educated, completely spoiled, and a little bit of a pussy, but that was what made him cute. Mickey liked the South Side type of guys he grew up around, but seeing someone completely different who was still pretty masculine was a big turn-on for him. This boy was his opposite, and Mickey was attracted. 

"How'd you hear about me anyway?" Mickey asked, looking up towards the door. 

"Oh, I follow this guy Lip on Twitter. He said you do plumbing, and electrical work too?" He asked like it was a question. 

"Oh yeah, he did say that would be a good way to find work. And yeah plumbing, electric, I do A/C too." 

"Damn, I'll have to get your number," he said smiling at Mickey, "never know when I'll need you around." 

Was this kid flirting with him? I mean yeah, he was all proper and smart and shit, but that didn't make him gay. Did it? 

"Yeah most definitely man." Mickey said standing up, "Here lemme go grab my snake, I think you got something caught down in there." 

"Your snake?" The boy asked biting his lip, his mind clearly in the gutter. 

Mickey laughed, "Yeah a snake, it's a tool. Like a long skinny plunger." 

"Oh!" The boy said laughing, kind of embarrassed. 

"Yeah, I'll be right back." Mickey said with a smile still on his face, and then walked outside to his truck. 

Meanwhile, Nick and Ian were having a pretty interesting conversation back at the Kash & Grab. 

"You're fucking lucky Red, you know that?" 

"Lucky how?" Ian asked confused. 

"You and Milkovich." Nick said sounding pissed. 

Or was it jealousy? 

"What do you mean?" Ian asked. 

"Haven't you wondered how I heard your name before I met you?" Nick asked back. 

It had actually slipped Ian's mind. All he'd remembered from last Saturday was an early morning facial, and being hungry while Mickey shoved those fucking balls up his ass. 

"Uh yeah, how did you again?" 

Nick laughed, "It's a funny story really. Let's just say...Milkovich was thinking about you while he was locked up." 

What the fuck did that mean? Mickey had said he'd missed Ian, but only because he was tired of topping other guys. 

"Don't do that shit. You said it's a funny story, I like to laugh." Ian said, sounding pretty aggressive. 

"Calm down Red, damn." Nick said laughing, "I mean really, he just like, called me your name by accident." 

"Okay?" Ian asked confused. The way Nick had said it, didn't make it sound too significant.

"...like when he was about to cum." Nick finished.

Ian threw his head back in shock and his eyes widened as realization set it. 

"And like the way he was fucking that night...It was different. I don't know to explain but like, I know he was thinking about you." 

Ian smiled, maybe Mickey had loved him longer than he'd thought? Or at least, had missed Ian for more than just his dick while he was gone. 

"And so when we're done, I ask him like "who's Ian?" and then he gets all pissed and shit, cussing me out and whatnot. But that's when I knew like, he had a crush on someone. And like, the way he kissed you the other day, that shit was fucking hot. You can tell how much he likes you, y'all are just lucky." 

Ian smiled again, "lucky" wasn't exactly the word he would've chosen. He had been through Hell and back with Mickey, been through some real rough shit. But at the end of the day, they were still here, still together, and they were stronger than ever too. Maybe it was luck? Maybe they were the lucky ones?

"Lucky?" Ian asked raising his eyebrow, "maybe you're right." 

"Hell yeah I'm right! Y'all are a fucking sexy couple too!" Nick began envisioning why exactly he wanted to come over later, "Ugh! Did he text you back?" 

Ian laughed, "No Nick, not yet." 

So, it turns out some rich Lake Shore kid had gotten drunk at the party and figured it would be wise to try and flush the shirt he'd thrown up all over. The black tank-top had clogged the toilet, but with the help of the snake, was no problem getting out. Thank God for Mickey Milkovich. 

"Oh my God man! Thank you so much!" He said happily to Mickey as they walked to the front door, "How much do I owe you?" 

"It's uh twenty-five for coming out and twenty for fixing it." 

The boy reached into his back pocket and got out his wallet. He pulled two one-hundred dollar bills from his brown leather pocketbook, and then handed them to Mickey. 

"Keep the change man! You really saved my ass!" 

Mickey raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Damn man, thanks!" 

"Yeah no problem. Say, you wouldn't know where to find any-" The boy started, lifting his thumb and index finger to his mouth, signaling he meant weed. "...would you?" 

He was surprised again. Even though this kid was all nerdy, he still liked to smoke? Mickey was even more turned on. 

"Ha! Yeah man, I got all that." Mickey said, in a flirtatious way, "Anything you need." He added, biting his bottom lip. 

Mickey felt himself flirting and tried to "straighten" back up. 

"Cool. Lemme get your number dude." The boy said, pulling out his iPhone. 

Mickey reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his business cards, (another one of Lip's ideas).The boy put his phone back up and reached to take the card from him. 

"Mickey Milkovich." He said, reading the black text. 

"Yes sir. What was your name again?" Mickey asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

The boy looked up and smiled, happy Mickey had finally asked. 

"Casper." He answered, "Casper Duncan." 

To Be Continued...


	16. Don't Let Me Interrupt.

Once Mickey had finished at Casper’s, he called Ian, and got the exact details as to what Nick had planned for the night. He hopped in his truck and headed back South to begin making preparations for later. Mickey basically told Lip and Mandy that they couldn’t be there tonight, and he didn’t bother calling Iggy because he hadn’t been home since Terry’s funereal. Lip and Mandy didn’t really care, but were kinda suspicious as to why they couldn’t stay, (they’d both heard moaning coming from Mickey’s room on multiple occasions, but whatever). When Ian got home after closing the Kash & Grab, he and Mickey took a shower. Nick had said he would be there around eleven and that he wanted them “extra clean.” Hearing that, Mickey kinda knew what to expect, but Ian didn’t know what Nick’s exact intentions were with his squeaky clean asshole. When Nick knocked on the door at 11:03, he was dressed in all black, and had a green backpack hanging off his right shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Nick asked casually, as he shook Mickey’s hand.

“Chillin’ man, chillin’.” Mickey responded back, motioning Nick inside. 

Ian emerged from Mickey’s bedroom, wearing nothing but a tank top and a white pair of basketball shorts. He didn’t have any boxers on underneath, so all you could really see was the outline of his dick. That thing was fucking long, even before it was hard. 

“Damn Red,” Nick said smiling and shaking his head, “that dick.” 

Mickey turned and looked at Nick with a pissed expression on his face. This motherfucker was still calling him that? Only Mickey should have the right to nickname him. Ian was his. 

“Look Trahan, his name ain’t “Red.” I don’t know why the fuck you call him that.” Mickey said, sounding as pissed as he looked. 

“Because his hair is red.” Nick answered, like Mickey had asked a question. 

What an idiot. 

“No shit his hair red, but you don’t gotta call him that! He’s got a fucking name!” Mickey yelled. 

“Awww, you’re still jealous huh?” Nick said, teasing Mickey, “it’s just a name Milkovich, calm down.”

“Fuck you. I don’t want you calling him that shit no more.” 

Mickey had stopped yelling, and had a serious tone in his voice. 

“Alright Milkovich, I’ll do that for you. But you gotta do something for me.” 

What the fuck? Nick knew Mickey wasn’t gonna bottom for him, or even suck him off, so what the fuck could he be asking for? 

“Hell no Trahan, fuck you!” 

Nick laughed, “You haven’t even heard what I want you to do. Ian will have to participate too.” 

Ian looked up surprised, and there was silence as they both waited for Nick’s answer. 

“Well what the fuck is it?” Ian asked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh,” Nick said laughing again, “okay, I’m gonna put this movie on and then sit on the couch, and then y’all are gonna do whatever I say to do, to each other, and I’m gonna watch.” 

“To each other?” Mickey asked, trying to clarify. 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna sit and watch. After ten minutes y’all can stop…and then I’ll never call him that again.” 

It sounded pretty fair, as long as Nick wasn’t gonna make them do any freaky shit. What could ten minutes hurt? Mickey looked at Ian, who just shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t give a fuck. 

Nick popped in the gay porn he’d brought over. He knew Ian had wanted to join the army, and so he made sure the movie he picked out had a kinky war theme going on. The head sergeant, in the film, had caught two recruits masturbating in their bunks, and decided they needed to be taught a lesson. Ian appreciated the gesture, and it didn’t hurt that the movie was fucking hot. 

Nick sat down on Mickey’s couch and took his black shirt off, revealing his ripped abs and chest. He kept his pants on for now and told Mickey and Ian to face each other. 

“Alright, first, I want y’all to stare into each other’s eyes.” 

Mickey turned and looked at Nick. 

“Kinda gay ass shit is that?” He asked.

Wasn’t anything Mickey about to do considered gay? Being around Nick made him act and say stuff like he used to, he couldn’t help it. Nick didn’t know Mickey loved bottoming for Ian, and it wasn’t any of his fucking business either.

“Relax Milkovich, he’s your boyfriend remember?”

Mickey couldn’t negate the question, not only was Ian his boyfriend, but he was also madly in love with him. Mickey looked at Ian and then back at Nick.

“It’s just us here,” Nick began, “I’m not judging you.” 

Mickey hated when people said shit like that, but he did feel pretty comfortable around Nick. He wouldn’t have agreed to let him come over otherwise. 

“Alright, alright shit.” Mickey said looking back at Ian, “staring…”

“Don’t say it like that! Just look him in his eye until I say stop.” 

After they started staring into each other’s eyes, both Mickey and Ian began smiling. Just looking at the other like that, so simply, reminded them both why they were so in love in the first place. 

“Now take his shirt off Milkovich, and Ian, you take his off.”

Mickey lifted Ian’s black tank top off of him, and Ian followed suit with Mickey’s red and grey one. 

“Okay, now kiss him, but not like y’all are tryna fuck. Make it sweet.” 

Mickey looked at Nick again, he would’ve rather been on his knees gagging on Ian’s cock. He was just getting comfortable being himself in front of Ian, and now he had to show emotion in front of someone else? 

“Don’t be a fucking pussy!” Nick joked after Mickey didn’t immediately kiss him. 

Nick’s words were like déjà vu, but Mickey Milkovich wasn’t a fucking pussy. Not anymore. He grabbed Ian by his neck and pulled him in slow. He held Ian’s face close to his, staring him in the eye, before pressing his lips lightly against Ian’s. Their lips parted and met again as their mouth’s opened and re-closed. They pressed their lips together harder this time, but didn’t use their tongues. Their brows were furrowed with passion, and Mickey continued holding onto Ian’s face. The kiss was so simple, but it started a rush of blood in both of them. Nick smiled at the sight of their growing boners, because he knew they liked what they were doing. 

“Alright, now take y’alls boxers off, and kiss like you normally would.” 

They didn’t break eye contact as they slid their underwear down, and once they were naked, they did as Nick commanded. Ian forced his tongue into Mickey’s mouth and began playing with his’, as Mickey started pulling Ian’s red hair. Ian’s dick was fully hard and pressed up between him and Mickey, while Mickey’s hung down between his legs, still growing fuller. Ian used both his hands to grab Mickey’s face and began biting his bottom lip, pulling it away from his face, forcing Mickey to stand taller. 

The sight had Nick’s dick just as hard as Ian’s, and as he slid his black pants off, he assigned them their next task. 

“Ian, get on your knees. Suck his dick.” Nick said, jacking himself off.

Ian kinda liked what was going on. The porn he heard in the background was turning him on even more, being bossed around was kinda hot too, and getting to do all this, with Mickey Milkovich as his official boyfriend. Could this night get any better? 

Ian got down and started kissing Mickey’s lower abs. He kissed his way around Mickey’s black pubes and then started licking the inside of his left thigh. Mickey began moaning and placed his fingertips on the back of Ian’s neck, as Nick marveled at the sight, fantasizing he was the one Ian was on his knees for. 

“Put it in your mouth.” Nick commanded Ian. 

Good, ‘cuz that’s the same thing Mickey was just about to say. 

Ian ran his tongue up the side of Mickey’s dick and once he reached the tip, took him into his mouth. Ian sucked Mickey at a moderate speed, while his left hand assisted him up and down the shaft, massaging his salvia into Mickey’s fat cock. And as his glands produced more spit, Mickey began thrusting his hips, forcing his dick deeper into Ian’s mouth. 

“Hell yeah Milkovich, fuck his face.” Nick said, biting his lip. 

Mickey moved Ian’s hand off of his dick and placed both his hands on the back of Ian’s head. He started thrusting faster, letting Ian get into the flow of things, (he had been practicing deepthroating Mickey, and he was getting pretty good at it too). Ian started off doing well. He was taking the majority of it, but Mickey’s dick was fucking huge. He tried going a little deeper, but ended up gagging. Mickey pulled his dick out of Ian’s throat and began rubbing in all that good, slimy spit. Spit that can only come from way down deep. 

“Stick your tongue out.” Mickey told him.

Ian opened his mouth and did as his boyfriend commanded. Mickey slapped his wet, thick cock against Ian’s tongue and then repeated the action against his beautiful, freckled face. Mickey then plunged his monster back into Ian’s throat. He went too deep this time, and that made him gag violently. Ian’s eyes turned red and he held his fist to his mouth as he started coughing. Naturally, it made Mickey laugh, but Nick thought he should probably help Ian out. 

“Here dude,” Nick said standing from the couch, “lemme show you how it’s done.” 

Nick stood him up and placed Ian side-by-side with Mickey, and then acted as his replacement on the floor. Mickey’s dick was already saturated with Ian’s DNA and that only made Nick want it more. First, Nick cleaned Mickey’s dick with his mouth, sucking it dry of all Ian’s salvia, and then spit the mixture of Ian’s spit and his own, onto Ian’s dick and began jacking him off with it. Nick’s tongue was massaging the underside of Mickey’s dick as Mickey forced him to start going deeper. 

“Mmmm Fuck.” Mickey moaned out. “Deepthroat that shit.” 

Ian looked down and saw that Mickey’s hard cock was no longer visible. All he could see was the top of Nick’s head, and so he knew Nick was obeying Mickey’s orders. 

How was it fair he was only getting a hand-job? 

“Damn, I want some of that shit.” Ian said, licking his bottom lip and grabbing Nick’s neck. 

Nick looked up at Ian and smiled his cute smile. He switched dicks he was sucking, and began jerking Mickey off with his left hand. He laughed to himself because he could feel the difference in giving them both blowjobs. Nick’s jaw didn’t hurt as much sucking Ian because he wasn’t as thick as Mickey, but Nick had to focus on not gagging more with Ian. That extra inch really made a difference. Nick was sucking Ian the same as he’d been sucking Mickey and then Ian started fucking his face, holding the back of Nick’s head for stability. 

It was turning Mickey on to see Ian so aggressive. He was used to seeing Ian with his sex face on and his muscles bulged, but not like this. Mickey was usually seeing stars with an eight inch cock shoved up his ass when Ian looked like this, but right now his mind was clear and Ian was sexier than ever. Maybe this is what got swingers off? 

Mickey started sucking Ian’s neck and pulling on his nipple. He kissed his way up, licking the back of Ian’s ear, until their lips were met again. Ian used his left hand to guide Nick’s head up and down his dick, and at the same time, was holding Mickey’s waist with his right. Mickey was gently sucking on Ian’s tongue, while Nick was trying to take all of Ian’s hard dick into his throat. 

“Alright, go get on the couch.” Nick said, looking up at them both. 

Mickey and Ian walked to couch as Nick stood up from the floor. They both plopped down at the same time and Nick started laughing. 

“Naw, I meant the other way,” Nick said nodding at Mickey, “Milkovich you know the drill.” 

Ian made a confused face and Mickey gestured like it would be alright. Mickey turned over and placed his knees on the cushions of the sofa. He rested his arms on the back of the couch, and Ian got in the same position, now pretty clear as to what was about to happen. 

Nick got down and had the biggest smile on his face. These boys had the sexiest asses he’d ever seen. Ian’s had more muscle and Mickey’s was bigger. Ian’s hole was clean shaven and Mickey’s was left hairy, (Ian loved how the hairs tickled his dick-head when they fucked, so Mickey didn’t shave). Nick instructed them to kiss, as he started rimming Mickey.

Nick began kissing Mickey’s ass, licking down his lower back until his tongue ran down Mickey’s crack. He used both his hands to spread Mickey’s cheeks and (as usual) spit directly on his hole, like it was a target. He circled his tongue around Mickey’s pink hole and grabbed a handful of his ass. He began tongue fucking Mickey, and that made him break his kiss from Ian, and start throwing his ass back, trying to get Nick’s tongue deeper inside of him. 

“Sfff fuckk.” Mickey moaned, biting his bottom lip. 

It had been too long since Nick last ate Mickey’s ass. Way too long.

Nick slapped Mickey on his ass cheek and then moved left to get his first taste of Ian’s tight hole. After Nick spread Ian’s cheeks and got a look at that pretty hole, he wet his right thumb and used it to start circling around Mickey’s rim. He licked Ian’s hole up and down, and then circular. And Nick teased it by sticking his tongue in just a little, then pulling it all the way out, then shoving back deep inside, then out again. 

“Ahhh, ahhh fuck.” Ian said whimpering, “that feels so fucking good.” 

“Sfff, shit Trahan!” Mickey moaned out. 

Nick had stuck his thumb up Mickey’s ass, and had started sucking on Ian’s asshole. Mickey pushed Nick’s thumb out and tried to move, but Nick stuck his tongue back deep into Mickey's ass and that made him get back down. Nick then starting going back and forth from asshole to asshole, licking and tongue-fucking them both until his tongue couldn’t take anymore. 

“Alright flip over, lemme get them dicks back wet.” 

Ian and Mickey sat butt-down on the cushions and started getting sucked off again. Nick had a dick in each hand and was going back and forth on those too. 

“Fuck,” Mickey moaned, “suck them fucking dicks.”

Mickey grabbed Ian’s face and started kissing his lips. Their heads moved side-to-side and their eyes were closed. Mickey started sucking on Ian’s bottom lip, as Ian reached to grab a handful of Mickey’s dark hair. 

And they would’ve never stopped if Nick hadn’t spoke. 

“Uhhhh…” Nick said sounding nervous. 

Mickey and Ian opened their eyes to look down at Nick who was looking up at the entrance of the living room, both dicks still in his hands. They looked over towards the doorway, and both their heart’s stopped.

Fuck, not again.

“Oh shit!” Ian and Mickey yelled simultaneously, as they got up from the couch.

It was Iggy Milkovich, leaning against the doorframe, eating a bag of Cheetos with a smirk on his face. 

“Oh naw,” Iggy said smiling.

“Don’t let me interrupt.”

To Be Continued…


	17. That's Pretty Gay.

"Shit! It's not what it looks it!" Mickey claimed, as he scrambled to put his boxers back on. 

What wasn't what it looked like, exactly? So that wasn't gay porn playing on the flat screen behind them? Mickey's dick wasn't just hard and in some dude's mouth? These other two guys weren't rushing to put clothes on too, and Mickey wasn't just kissing Ian Gallagher either? 

Sure, Iggy was seeing everything wrong. 

"Yo, I said don't let me interrupt." Iggy said still smiling, and then walked to his room. 

Mickey and Ian looked at each other, and based on both their expressions, had no idea what to think. Once he was dressed in his boxers and tank top, Mickey headed out of the living room. 

"Stay here." He told Ian in a protective way. 

Mickey didn't know what Iggy was gonna do, but he wasn't gonna let Ian get hurt. Not this time. When he walked into Iggy's room, Mickey found his brother at his closet taking some of his clothes out, still eating his Cheetos. Mickey didn't know what to say, so he kinda just stood there. 

"So uh, you and Mandy just share everything huh?" Iggy asked, smirking again. 

Mickey was so embarrassed. How many times had he gotten caught now? And why did the shit keep happening? 

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw but-"

"Mickey man, it's cool." Iggy said, interrupting him in a serious tone. "Chill out bro."

Mickey had gotten riled up and defensive, and his voice sounded angry. He calmed though, after hearing Iggy's words. Maybe his brother really was cool with it? 

"Just put a fucking sock on the door next time, Jesus!" Iggy said, laughing again. 

That made Mickey laugh too, and then Iggy told him to sit down as he closed his bedroom door. 

Iggy Milkovich had known his little brother was gay for a while now. It had all started like two years back, when Iggy was looking for his Cialis pills. He just knew Mickey had stolen his shit, and when he went searching through Mickey's drawer and found a dildo and a bottle of lube, Iggy got pretty suspicious. It could've been Mandy's though, so it wasn't real evidence. The second hint came from the slow-ass family computer. Someone had been looking at a gay porn website and forgot to erase the browsing history. And this particular website was dedicated to red-headed boys, with big cocks only. Uh, maybe Mandy had a gay porn fetish? 

But it wasn't until last summer that Iggy knew for certain.

Since he wasn't picking up his phone, Iggy had gone looking for Mickey at one of the usual spots he went for target practice. When he arrived at the abandoned building, Iggy heard a familiar slapping noise and Mickey moaning, and thought Mickey might be fucking some slut that he could get in on too. But when he walked up for a closer look, Iggy didn't find his brother fucking, he found him getting fucked. 

Like up the ass.

Iggy was shocked. He'd imagined his brother would've been the one doing the fucking but whatever, it wasn't his business. And the way Gallagher was fucking him? Jesus, Mickey must've really liked pain. Iggy didn't really care though, he kinda understood. When you're in juvie for months (sometimes years) at a time, a dude can only jack-off for so long. Iggy himself had gotten a blowjob or two, but never fucked some guy's ass, and definitely didn't get fucked. 

Shit, call it what you want, Iggy had been locked up for a year and eight months. 

But Iggy kinda wanted to talk. The way Mickey had been kissing Ian? What the fuck was that? Why kiss a guy? And why do it like that? Mickey was out of juvie, why was he still fucking with guys?

"So what's up?" Iggy asked, standing in front of Mickey.

"W-what do you mean?" Mickey was nervous, and he damn sure had reason to be. 

"With you and that Gallagher kid." Iggy said, pointing his thumb towards the front room. 

"What do you mean?" Mickey repeated, without the stutter.

"How long you two been fucking?" Iggy asked more plainly.

Mickey paused.

"I-It's the first time...I-I don't know what the fuck. I just-"

Mickey stopped when he looked up and saw Iggy's expression. His brother knew he was lying. 

"Don't bullshit me man, how long?" Iggy asked, sounding like he genuinely wanted to know. 

Mickey paused again, trying to do the math in his head. 

"Fuck, I don't know. Few years." 

Iggy paused then.

"Okay, and what was that kiss about?" 

"What do you mean?" Mickey asked a third time.

"Like, why kiss him? And you were doing it like you liked it, had you're eyes all closed, touching his face and shit." 

Iggy didn't sound patronizing, he sounded confused. He still seemed pretty cool, so Mickey thought he could just say it. I mean shit, the answer was simple. 

"I-I do like kissing him." 

Iggy paused again.

"So what?" Iggy asked, still sounding confused, "You're like gay or somethin'?" 

Iggy didn't ask it in a belittling way but Mickey still kinda felt ashamed. He didn't like the label. Mickey was who he was, and that's all that should matter. But he had been trying to be less sensitive lately, and it was only his brother he was talking to after all.

"I mean...yeah." Mickey finally answered, "but I ain't no fucking bitch!" He added, his voice sounding angry again.

"Yo chill! Did I fucking say you was?" 

Mickey responded by shaking his head "no." There was silence in the room, and then Iggy asked another question.

"So uh, you and Gallagher? Y'all are like, together or some shit?" 

Mickey responded by shaking his head "yes," and then they were quiet again. 

"That's pretty gay." Iggy said laughing, breaking the silence.

"Fuck you!" Mickey said, laughing again too.

Iggy then sat down next to Mickey, and continued asking his various questions.

"So, you don't fuck any of these skanks around here? Like, never?"

"Naw man, not anymore. What's the point?" Mickey asked back, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

Iggy paused.

"I don't know. You don't ever get like, tired? That shit's gotta fucking hurt." 

Mickey burst into laughter, he couldn't take this conversation seriously. 

"You asking forreal?" 

"Yeah Mick, I'm serious! I saw Ian's dick, your's too. That shit's definitely gotta hurt." 

"Well," Mickey said laughing again, "it starts to feel good after a while, once you get used to it. And we flip, so I'm not always the one...taking it."

That was the best way Mickey could word it. This conversation was already too weird, and he didn't wanna gross his brother out. Iggy just made a look of pain, he still couldn't imagine a dick going in him. He had tried a single finger before, and that shit hurt like nobody's business. 

"So which hole's better?" Iggy asked with his smirk. 

"Ha! Honestly, they feel about the same." Mickey answered laughing, "bet if you were blindfolded, you couldn't tell the difference."

"Shit, I guess man. You uh-" Iggy motioned his hand up and down, like he was holding the back of someone's head giving him a blowjob, "too?" 

Mickey cracked a half smile, he loved sucking Ian's cock. 

"Uh yeah." Mickey answered simply, trying to make it sound as not gay as possible. 

You could be masculine and still love to suck your boyfriend's cock. It just didn't sound very manly when you said it out loud. 

"You any good?" Iggy asked smiling, and raising his eyebrow. 

Shit, Mickey knew he was an amazing cocksucker. The way Ian's toes would curl, and how Ian would moan out in so much pleasure. Mickey definitely knew the oral skills he possessed. But why was Iggy asking?

"He never complains." Mickey answered, referring to Ian. 

"Oh! It's just him?" Iggy asked, sounding enlightened. 

"Hell yeah! He was the first one that...you know. He was the first dude I ever sucked off too! And he's the only dude I ever kissed."

Damn. Mickey hadn't realized how Ian was his first for so many things in his sex-life. He knew, but hearing himself say it made it all seem so much more significant. So much more special. Mickey wanted to go run and kiss Ian, just like he'd done the last time Iggy was around.

"Good. If you're smart, you'd keep it that way." Iggy said.

Who the fuck was he telling? 

"Who the fuck you telling?" Mickey asked, not seeking an answer.

Iggy nodded and then smiled again. 

"Yeah man, I don't know about the butt-hole, but uh, I do gotta say...guys give the better blowjob." 

Mickey looked up in surprise. What the fuck did Iggy just say? There was no way he heard that shit right. 

"Huh?" Mickey asked, sounding as confused as Iggy had earlier. 

"Yeah it's crazy. My cock's bigger than yours, and that motherfucker could still take it all, and then some!" 

Mickey just stared in surprise. 

"What you gonna judge me? I had been locked up for more than a year. Dude came on to me, and it only happened like twice." Iggy said, sounding defensive. 

(Like twice = Four times)

"Naw naw, I'm not judging, I'm just-" Mickey was still so shocked, "I woulda never fucking guessed..."

"Yeah whatever," Iggy said shrugging his shoulders, "I'd do it again. It's not like I like dudes, that shit just felt fucking good, and a mouth's a mouth right?" 

"Right." Mickey said laughing. 

"But don't say shit to Joey!" Iggy said in a serious tone. 

"You don't say shit to Joey!" Mickey said back to him, just as serious.

There was one last silence, and then Iggy looked at Mickey and smiled.

"Alright man, I'm finna be headed back out. I just needed some of my shit." He said standing from his bed. 

"Oh okay. I'll catch you later man." Mickey said, standing and walking towards the door. 

"Yo Mick..." 

"What's up?" He asked, turning back around.

"I love you dude," Iggy said smiling again, "but don't forget that fucking sock."

Mickey couldn't remember the last time Iggy had said he loved him, he hadn't even told Mickey after their father's funereal. It felt good to hear it, and Mickey was glad another one of his siblings knew about him. 

"Love you too man." Mickey said with a smile, "and ha, I won't." 

After Iggy had left, Mickey locked the front door and then headed back to the living room, where he found Ian and Nick smoking a joint. 

"Here," Nick said passing it to Mickey, "thought this might help reset the mood." 

Nick had brought the weed for after they were done, but clearly, smoking it now made more sense. 

"Shit, you fucking thought right!" Mickey said grabbing it from him, and sitting down on the couch. 

Nick got back on the floor, slid Mickey's boxers back down, and then started sucking his fat cock to get it hard again. Mickey passed Ian the lit joint and then started kissing his neck, as Ian slid his own boxers off and began playing with his dick. Ian then took a hit of the joint, but didn't inhale, and allowed Mickey to suck the smoke from his mouth. They then kissed, and Mickey smiled as he expelled the smoke through his nose. 

"Fucking sexy." Nick said looking up at them, and then switched dicks he was sucking. 

Mickey grabbed Ian by the neck and started kissing him rougher, forcing Ian's mouth open and biting his bottom lip. Ian reached up to grab Mickey's hair, but was interrupted before he could. 

"Fuck!" Mickey said standing from the couch, and running towards his room. His hard cock and ass both bouncing as he quickly maneuvered.

"What?!" Ian yelled after him. 

Mickey didn't respond though, he had already made it to his room. A few moments passed and he reappeared with a white tube sock in his hand. 

"Almost forgot the sock." Mickey said smiling, and putting it on the outside of the doorknob. 

He sat back down and then picked up where he'd originally been interrupted from, pulling his boyfriend in closer to him, and pressing their lips back together again.

Mickey was just happy Ian was okay. Iggy now knew about them, but they were okay. They were still alive, and still in love, and still just okay. 

What more could Mickey Milkovich ask for?

To Be Continued...


	18. Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.

Mickey had just left from installing some new ceiling fans at a client's house when his cellphone rang. It was that Casper Duncan kid, and he was looking for a pretty big amount of some premium weed. He was throwing another party and thought he should give Mickey a call, he was the one who'd said he had anything Caper needed. Unfortunately, Mickey didn't have the amount Casper wanted on him, but said he could pick it up and then bring it out to Lake Shore for him. Casper agreed and told Mickey to just ring the doorbell upon his arrival. 

When Mickey got there, Casper was dressed in another tight pair of blue jeans (except these were a lighter blue and had a ripped knee on the right side), a white v-neck with a small logo in the bottom corner, and he was barefoot. This kid looked just like one of those Abercrombie models from the magazine Mickey would jack off to in juvie. And had he started working out harder? Mickey didn't remember Casper's chest and arms being that big. This kid was so cute. 

So fucking cute. 

"Hey, what's up dude?" Casper asked smiling. 

"Nothing much man, just chillin'." Mickey said still standing outside. 

"You get it?" Casper asked, lowering his voice. 

"Yeah," Mickey said, sounding annoyed and motioning to the backpack he was holding, "wouldn't've came all the way out here for nothing." 

"Oh, no shit!" Casper laughed embarrassedly, and then motioned Mickey inside. 

They followed the path of square black-and-white tiles, through the large foyer, until they reached the white-wall, white-carpet living room. Mickey hadn't gotten this far into Casper's house last time, but this place was way fancier, and a whole lot bigger than he'd imagined it would be. He didn't understand. If it was only three people living here, why the fuck did they need so much space?

Once Mickey and Casper were seated on the gold velvet couch, Mickey began unloading his backpack. He pulled out two different types of weed, a calibrated scale, and a weed grinder with Bob Marley's face on it. 

"Alright, this one's the Afghan Kush," Mickey said, handing a bag to Casper, "and this one's the Blueberry Haze." 

"Goddamn!" Casper said, with his nose inside the first bag, "you weren't playing."

"Yeah man, I told you, it's the best shit around." 

"Hell yeah, 'preciate it dude! Here you go man, keep the rest." 

The cost for both bags of weed was only $500, but Casper had reached in his pocket, and handed Mickey eight one-hundred dollar bills. Why did this kid keep giving him all this extra money?

"It's okay man, really." Mickey said, handing him back the three extra bills. 

"Naw, I want you to have it!" Casper said smiling, "I kinda need a favor anyway..." 

A $300 favor? 

"And what's that?" Mickey asked intrigued. 

"I uh...kinda don't know how to roll a joint-"

Mickey burst into laughter before Casper could even finish his sentence. What a little pussy! 

"Shut the fuck up!" Casper said laughing too, and pushing Mickey's upper arm. 

"What kinda pussy buys $500 worth of weed, and doesn't even know how to roll it?" Mickey asked smiling.

"Fuck off! I usually buy it rolled, so I never learned how!" Casper explained, still laughing. 

"That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard." Mickey said, still smiling. 

Mickey was flirting with him, not that Casper could tell based on his language. But he was flirting, nonetheless.

Casper looked down, and then back at Mickey. His big brown eyes grew wider, and he lifted both his eyebrows, causing his forehead to wrinkle. 

Ugh, so fucking cute. 

"Show me?" Casper asked sweetly. 

"Okay. Well you're gonna need some-"

Mickey had stopped talking and started smiling again, when Casper pulled out a pack of rolling papers. This kid had finished Mickey's thought before he'd even voiced it. Maybe he wasn't a complete pussy after all? 

"I'm not a complete pussy." Casper said, mocking Mickey's words. 

"Yeah, I see that." Mickey said laughing.

After the weed was ground up and ready to be rolled, Mickey began his lesson. He showed Casper how to properly twist the end, and how much weed to fill the joint with. Mickey showed him how to roll the joint so it would burn straight, and the ways he shouldn't roll it. Casper was paying close attention until Mickey began licking the joint to seal it. He was already so sexy in his work uniform, but seeing Mickey with that look of concentration on his face and watching his wet tongue slide back and forth across his lips, was too much for Casper to handle. 

"Damn." He thought out loud, still staring at Mickey's mouth. 

"What?" Mickey asked, looking over to Casper. 

"Oh, nothing!" Casper said, shaking his head and smiling his embarrassed smile. 

Mickey knew Casper had been staring, and not at the fucking joint he was rolling either. 

"So," Mickey said smiling again, "you ready to get high?" 

"Wouldn't've had you come all the way out here for nothing." Casper said, with Mickey's same annoyed tone as earlier. 

"Smart-ass huh?" Mickey asked with the joint between his lips, and then lit it up. 

"Something like that." Casper answered with a smirk.

That Blueberry Haze was no fucking joke. Casper had started coughing after the first hit and Mickey started coughing after his fourth, and Mickey rarely ever coughed, but this shit was just that fucking good. After the joint was finished, Casper went to the kitchen to get them something to drink. When he came back into the living room, he handed Mickey a glass and then sat back down next to him. 

As Mickey sipped his lemonade, all Casper could do was focus on the lips that were wrapped around one of his mom's favorite glass cups. Casper then looked down, and could see Mickey's dick bulging through his uniform. It was soft and pressed against his inner thigh beneath the grey jumpsuit he was wearing. 

Maybe it was the weed? Or maybe just the lust, but something had told Casper it would be okay to reach out and try grabbing Mickey's cock. 

"Dude, what the fuck?!" Mickey choked out, as he sat his drink down.

Mickey stood up from the couch with his fist balled, forcing Casper's groping hand off of him. 

"I-I don't know man. I'm-" 

"You fucking faggot! The fuck is wrong with you?!" 

Mickey heard the hate in his voice and he'd regretted what he said, as soon as he'd said it. He knew Casper didn't deserve that, and the look Casper had on his face wasn't making him feel any better either. Mickey hated that word, and he hated how he automatically reacted in situations like this. Terry had really fucked his mind up, but Mickey was doing so much better these days, and had no intentions of fucking up his progress. 

He was actually kinda happy this kid made the first move. 

"I'm so sorry. I-" Casper started.

"Naw man, I'm sorry. I should go." Mickey said, cutting him off and turning to leave. 

"Don't go." Casper said, standing from the couch, "I-I get it." 

Mickey turned back to look at Casper, and had an expression that could've been perceived as anger, but was really just curiosity. 

"You get what?" Mickey asked with his brow furrowed. 

Casper paused. 

"My parents want me to be a surgeon. They want a beautiful blonde daughter-in-law, and tons of grandchildren, and all this other bullshit." Casper said, rolling his eyes. "My dad hates...you know. He'd kill me if he ever found out."

Casper's last words sounded fearful, and Mickey understood his situation all too well. He looked Casper up and down, maybe that's why he was so masculine? He was in the same boat as Mickey, walking around pretending to be something he wasn't. The same boat, just two different ends. Maybe he and this kid had more in common than Mickey thought? 

"Yeah," Mickey said, sounding compassionate, "I know how that shit goes." 

Casper let out a relieved breath, and then smiled. He was just happy Mickey wasn't gonna whoop his ass.

"I'm sorry again man. I don't know what came over me." 

Mickey paused then. 

"What were you reaching for anyway?" He asked, biting his bottom lip. 

"I think that's kinda obvious." Casper said blushing. 

"No shit!" Mickey said laughing, "I mean why were you reaching? What'd you plan on doing?" 

Casper looked Mickey up and down. 

"Well you would've found out, if you hadn't of stopped me." He said in a flirtatious tone.

Mickey smiled, "Go ahead." 

"What?" Casper asked confused. 

"I ain't stopping you now." Mickey said, looking him up and down the same way Casper had done him. 

Casper smiled and took a step closer to Mickey, leaving mere inches between them, causing their height difference to become more apparent. He laughed to himself, Mickey's height was another thing that made him so cute. Casper began unbuttoning Mickey's uniform and slid the sleeves off both his shoulders. Mickey just stood there with a smile, allowing Casper to do as he pleased with him. Once he had the uniform off and down to Mickey's waist, Casper ran his hand down Mickey's chest, until he got a fistful of Mickey's growing cock. 

Casper dropped to his knees and continued undressing Mickey, pulling the grey uniform down his legs, until the South-Side boy was standing in nothing but his red checkerboard boxers. Mickey's dick was growing, but it was still soft and hanging, as Casper slid his underwear off. 

"Oh my God!" Casper exclaimed, as he stared at Mickey's cock and balls. 

Not only was Mickey's dick big, but it was pretty too. His dick-head was shaped perfect, and he had the biggest set of low-hangers, Casper had ever seen. The way his pubes were grown out, but trimmed, and his happy-trail was sexy as fuck too. Jesus, why did Mickey Milkovich even bother wearing clothes? 

"What?" Mickey asked, biting his lip again, "you like what you see?" 

"Dude, your dick is so pretty." Casper said, sounding starstruck. 

Mickey laughed out loud to himself. He always received that compliment, but never really understood it. 

"Pretty huh?" He asked, still laughing.

"Yeah," Casper said, grabbing it with his left hand, "this thing is fucking gorgeous." 

"Ha! Well go ahead and put that "pretty" thing in ya' mouth." Mickey said, putting his fingers on the back of Casper's neck. 

Casper licked his own lips, and then kissed the tip of Mickey's dick. He kissed three more times down the right side of Mickey's shaft, before opening wide and taking the majority of Mickey's dick into his mouth. Casper sucked him with his hand at the base, slowly going deep until his nose touched Mickey's pubes, and then taking it all back out of his mouth. 

"Mmmm..." Mickey moaned out. 

Mickey would've usually started making whoever it was sucking his dick go faster, but he was enjoying the view so much, it didn't matter. Casper was already so cute, but seeing him with Mickey's dick in his mouth, only made him look better. Mickey bent down to lift Casper's white shirt off of him, and Casper began unbuttoning his own jeans. Once he was dressed in only his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, Casper resumed sucking Mickey's throbbing cock. 

Mickey started playing with Casper's hair this time. He tugged and twirled at it, and began massaging Casper's scalp with his fingertips. He only ever did that with Ian, but that's who this kid reminded him of. He didn't really look like Ian, but he felt like him. They had the same spirit, and that's what was attracting Mickey more. 

Mickey was thinking about Ian, but in a sort of...disregarded way. Being with this kid was like getting to know Ian again. Except it wasn't Ian. Mickey was getting to discover all the mysteries of this Duncan kid, just like he'd gotten to do with that Gallagher kid. 

"Look at me while you do it." Mickey instructed. 

Casper looked up, and his pretty brown eyes began driving Mickey crazy. His face was so relaxed, but his brow would furrow every time he took Mickey back deep into his throat. Mickey used his thumb to rub the side of Casper's face, like he was appreciating the pleasure the boy was giving him. Mickey couldn't help being so sensual with him, Casper was just so fucking cute. 

"You're so fucking cute." Mickey moaned out softly. 

Casper smiled and got up from the floor. He grabbed Mickey by his hand, and walked him back over to the couch. Casper then turned Mickey around so he could be seated, but leaned his head down first, and tried kissing Mickey's lips.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Mickey said, backing his head up. 

"What?" Casper asked confused again, "I can blow you but I can't kiss you?" 

Mickey kinda knew Casper had a crush on him, and so he didn't want to tell Casper he had a boyfriend and upset him. But why not? Why did he give a shit about Casper's feelings?

"Naw man. I just...I uh..." Mickey couldn't finish.

"You don't like me?" Casper asked, sounding disappointed. 

"No. It's not that. I just-" He still couldn't finish. 

"You what?" 

That was a good question. What was stopping him from kissing Casper? Mickey felt pretty comfortable around the kid, because he didn't have to have his straight act on. (Or even his "top-only" act, he put on when he was locked up). He could show emotion around Casper and not feel judged. Mickey liked how he felt around this kid, how nervous he got. But nervous in a good way. A nervous he looked forward to feeling. Being around Casper felt like falling in love for the first time. 

Mickey looked at Casper's full pink lips, and then licked his own. 

"I ain't stopping you." Mickey answered smiling. 

And then pulled Casper back in close, locking their lips together this time. 

To Be Continued...


	19. Relax.

Casper's lips were softer than they looked, and they tasted like cherry Chapstick. Mickey would've tasted the weed on his mouth too, but he was just as high as Casper was, and so this sweet artificial flavor was all that graced his lips. Mickey's right hand was still on the back of Casper's neck, when Casper used both his hands to grab hold of Mickey's face. He pressed his lips against Mickey's lips hard, without the use of his tongue, and Mickey kissed him back. As Casper tilted his head to the right and opened his mouth to take a breath, Mickey bit down on Casper's lower lip and forced his tongue into Casper's mouth, taking their sensual kiss to a whole new level. Casper responded by smiling through their kiss, and then lightly nibbling on the tip of Mickey's tongue. 

"You wanna go to my room?" Casper asked, breaking the kiss but keeping his mouth close to Mickey's. 

"Let's go." Mickey responded smiling, his dick still hard as Hell. 

Mickey turned to exit the living room the way they had came in, because the first two sets of stairs were located at the front door. 

"No," Casper said laughing, "the elevator leads right to my room." 

Elevator? Really?

"Do y'all seriously need a fucking elevator?" 

"It came with the house!" Casper answered, still laughing, "Plus, would you wanna walk to the third floor every time you needed to get up there?" 

Well that kinda made sense, this house was big as shit. And thinking about it, Mickey was happy he wasn't gonna have to make that tedious trip up those monstrous stairs. 

"Whatever, let's just fucking go." 

As Casper led Mickey to the elevator, Mickey reached his hand out to cop a feel of Casper's ass, still hidden beneath his expensive boxer briefs. This kid's butt was almost as soft as his fucking lips, and it was small and tight, like he did yoga or some shit. Mickey couldn't wait to get a piece of it. 

Once inside the elevator, the boys resumed their make-out session. Mickey was against the back wall and had his hands wrapped around Casper's waist, and Casper had both his arms locked around Mickey. They were going back-and-forth, kissing slow and sweet as Casper took lead, and then back fast and furious as Mickey would retake hold of the reins. 

Mickey moved his head to the right, breaking their lips apart and signaling Casper to move the kiss lower. As Casper started sucking his neck, Mickey used both his hands to grab another handful of Casper's ass. Mickey then stuck his middle finger into his mouth to lubricate it, plunged his hand into the back of Casper's underwear, and then stuck his tattooed appendage deep into Casper's asshole. 

"Sfff fuck!" Casper moaned out, clawing his nails into Mickey's side. 

"Uh, ow." Mickey said jokingly. 

"Sorry man, I'm still getting used to that shit." Casper said, rubbing where he'd just stabbed Mickey, "I've never bottomed before."

Casper Duncan had only been with one other guy in his life, too (if oral actually counted), and that was only a one-time thing. He'd fucked a few girls that went to his school, and even tried playing in his own ass with various toys, but Casper had never bottomed before. He'd never had an actual dick in his ass, and so nervous was a good way to describe how he was feeling. 

"Ha! Shut the fuck up." Mickey said laughing, thinking it was a joke. 

Casper raised his eyebrow and gave Mickey a look that said, 'I'm not fucking playing.' 

"Yo, you're serious." Mickey said, knowing it was the truth.

Casper just smiled and looked down, feeling shy. He was so fucking cute and now, Mickey wanted him more than ever. I mean it was his first time, it was only fair for Mickey to show him the ropes. 

Right? 

"You ready for that?" Mickey asked, his voice sounding unsure.

Casper smiled again, he could tell Mickey cared about him. He didn't know if Mickey was crushing as hard as he was, but he knew Mickey felt something. Casper took a step closer to the shorter boy, put his arms on either side of Mickey's shoulders, and tugged at the dark hair on the back of Mickey's head.

"I'm ready." He said smiling, and then leaned in for another kiss. 

Casper wasn't kidding when he said the elevator led right to his room. When the doors of this private elevator opened, Casper and Mickey were actually in the kid's bedroom...like without having to walk down the hall. What the fuck? Mickey had never seen such fancy shit in all his life. Casper's room was bigger than Mickey's kitchen and living room put together, and his bed was double the size of Mickey's relatively new king. When they walked over to the bed, they had to take three steps down before actually getting onto the same level the bed was built on. 

This shit was fucking classy.

Mickey threw Casper onto the oversized mattress, his head landing on one of the six, soft pillows that acted as decoration. Mickey then climbed onto the bed and crawled his way up Casper's lean torso, kissing the boy's lips soft and slow, letting the passion and ecstasy build all around them. Mickey moved his lips off of Casper's then, and began making his way back down the brunette's body, kissing his chin, and then his neck, before making his way to Casper's waist, and finally removing those fucking underwear. 

Casper had been complimenting Mickey on his cock earlier (like he'd never seen a big dick before), but all the while, was hiding this in his Calvin Klein's? 

Get fucking real. 

"Damn," Mickey said surprised, "yo, you're packin' heavier than I thought."

Casper smiled a half smile, allowing only one of his dimples to become momentarily visible. His dick wasn't as thick as Mickey's but it was longer, and it wasn't as long as Ian's, but it was noticeably thicker. Casper's pubes were completely shaved, and his hanging balls were waxed clean. His cock was tan too, with two different color tones, just like Mickey's.

Mickey stopped for a moment, and took a look at what was laid before him. Casper was pretty much perfect. 

Shit, pretty much? This kid was fucking flawless. 

"You gonna suck it or what?" Casper asked, growing impatient.

Mickey had thought about it, and he actually really wanted to, but he just couldn't. He'd already kissed this kid, and that was a big deal for him. It had taken him years to work up the courage to finally kiss Ian, and here he was tonguing Casper down like it wasn't shit. Mickey wanted to keep something special for Gallagher though, and giving a blowjob was the one thing he'd only ever do for his Ian. 

"Naw kid," Mickey answered simply, "but turn over though, I wanna show you somethin'."

Casper did as Mickey instructed, although he was anxious because he thought Mickey was about to try and fuck him. Mickey used his right hand to slap Casper's ass twice. (Mickey was taking in the moment, having fun with this kid. It was Casper's first time after all). Casper's ass was the only body part below the waist that wasn't shaved clean, that, and his untouched asshole. 

Mickey spread Casper's cheeks to reveal his tight virgin hole, which really couldn't even be called a "hole" because it was that damn tight. The lines of Casper's rim met at a focal point that was almost microscopic, and Mickey was now certain that this boy had never been fucked. 

"Fuck," Mickey said softly, sounding amazed, "you weren't fucking playing." 

Casper turned to look back at Mickey, still thinking he was about to try and enter him, "just go slow." 

"Don't worry kid, I got you."

Casper smiled his cute smile, and then laid his head back on the pillow his arms were cradling. 

Mickey licked his bottom lip and then positioned himself on all fours. He arched his back and dived tongue first into Casper's backside, licking up the boy's taint, until his tongue reached it's final destination. Mickey then began using his tongue to circle around Casper's rim, going counterclockwise, and then licking up and down. Casper squirmed at the initial contact of Mickey's tongue. He'd never had his ass eaten before, and as much as it felt good, that shit tickled even more. 

Mickey took his tongue out then, and tried replacing it with an index finger he'd lubricated with his spit. This kid was so fucking tight, it was almost annoying, but Mickey was patient. He waited about four minutes before placing another finger in, and then slowly inserted his larger middle, bringing the finger-count to two. Casper moaned softly as Mickey's salvia kept things from dying out, and slowly but surely, his hole began to open. 

"Turn back over," Mickey instructed, removing his fingers, "it'll hurt less if you're on your back." 

"Hurt less?" Casper repeated, sounding worried. 

"We just gotta get started. I'll go real slow for you, don't worry." Mickey said, reassuring him. 

"Okay, you fucking better." Casper said, crawling over to his nightstand for condoms and lube. 

Mickey's dick had remained erect the entire time, so there was no need for another blowjob. Once the condom was rolled from his tip to his base, and Casper's ass was slicked and ready, Mickey began. 

Casper was on his back with his legs up and resting on Mickey's waist, waiting nervously to be deflowered. Mickey was hovering over him close, his left arm holding his torso up, and his right helping guide his way into Casper's semi-open asshole. 

"It's gonna burn like a motherfucker at first, but after a couple minutes it'll feel better."

Casper made a look of terror and Mickey completely understood. 

"We don't have to-" Mickey began.

"I know." Casper said, cutting him off. "I want to." 

What Casper meant to say was, "I want you to." 

"Count of three?" Mickey asked with a smile. 

Casper shook his head in agreement. 

"Alright kid, here we go." Mickey said, using his finger to locate the entrance, "..one...two...three.."

"Sfff ahhh!" Casper moaned out in pain. 

Mickey had placed his dick-head (plus about an inch more of his fat cock), inside of Casper. The virgin responded by clawing into Mickey's back and squirming harder than before, when it was just Mickey's tongue in his ass. 

"Relax." Mickey whispered seductively into his ear, and then grabbed Casper by both his wrists. 

Mickey pinned the boy's hands down and began kissing his neck, distracting him from the pain. Mickey kissed his way down Casper's chest, taking Casper's nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, and then making his way back up to Casper's pretty set of full lips. Mickey pulled at the boy's bottom one with his teeth, and then pressed his lips against Casper's, the way he knew the ritzy kid liked to kiss. 

All the while they were making out, Mickey's dick had remained two inches inside of Casper. His hole was now stretched wide enough at that level, and so Mickey went in three inches deeper. 

"Mmmm fuck." Casper moaned through their kiss, his body more relaxed.

"Yeah, just like that." Mickey whispered, "that feel good?"

"Mmmm hmmm." Casper responded, his jaw clenched as a result of the pain. 

Mickey waited a few moments and then gave Casper the last two remaining inches of himself. Casper moaned out again, but didn't squirm as much, and hadn't even moved his hands this time. Mickey stayed there, balls deep inside of Casper, until the kid's inner path was molded to the form of Mickey's patiently waiting cock. 

Nineteen minutes had passed since Mickey first stuck the tip in, and now it was time for the fun. Casper was completely open, and when Mickey pulled out to re-lube, the boy's once tight rim, was now a visible pink hole, winking at Mickey. He smiled at the work he'd done, and then Mickey placed himself back inside of Casper. 

"Mmmm, shit." Casper moaned. 

Mickey re-entering him felt better than he expected it to. 

Mickey began fucking him slow, using his hips to guide his cock in half-way and then almost out, then back in all the way, and then half-way out again. They were kissing without their tongues, and their mouths opened as their heads tilted from side-to-side. Casper's hands weren't pinned down anymore, and he had hold of Mickey's face, leaning up and kissing him passionately. 

"Ahhh fuck Mickey." Casper moaned softly, "mmmm, you can go a little faster." He added, worried Mickey wasn't enjoying himself. 

Mickey pressed his arms up then, and stared Casper in his brown eyes as he began to speed his fucking up. He was making love to Casper really, unbeknownst to him. Mickey was just doing what felt good. 

He started stroking faster, but in a circular motion, giving Casper dick from every angle possible. Mickey was going in seven inches deep with every thrust, and then lowered his body back onto Casper's. He then grabbed hold of the younger boy from underneath, wrapping his tattooed fingers around Casper's shoulders and nestling his head against the brunette's neck. Mickey was maneuvering his throbbing cock in and out of Casper's slicked hole, while at the same time, was laying gently against the boy's toned body. Casper then clawed into Mickey once more, as Mickey bit down on his finger and changed the pace of his stroke. 

Both boys had reached their climax. 

"I think I'm 'bout to cum..." Casper informed Mickey, (who was relived because he too was about to pop). 

Mickey got up onto his knees, and placed one of Casper's legs over his shoulder. He continued fucking the boy's tight hole, but was now simultaneously jacking Casper off. 

Casper started breathing deep and Mickey could feel Casper's asshole begin to pulsate around his thick cock. Mickey knew what that meant, and so he spit directly onto Casper's dick and began jerking him faster. 

"Ahh, ahhh, ohhh f-fuckkkk." Casper cried out, as loads of cum erputed from his cock. 

The pools of semen landed on Casper's chest, and in his bed, and on his pillows, and in his head. 

Casper's cum was everywhere. 

Mickey then resumed his initial position on top of Casper. He kissed the boy's lips and held him close, causing some of Casper's cum to be transferred onto Mickey's upper and lower torso. Mickey stroked a few more times, and once he was about to cum, decided not to pull out. 

"Mmmm sh-shittt Caz." Mickey moaned, biting his bottom lip and shooting his load into the condom.

Mickey bent down to kiss him once more, and then removed his still rock-hard cock, from Casper's ass. 

"Sfff." Casper moaned as Mickey exited his sensitive hole, "That shit was so good." 

"Everything you thought ya' first time would be?" Mickey asked, sounding relieved.

"So much better." Casper said, pulling Mickey in for another sweet kiss. "I've never came like that." 

"Yeah," Mickey said laughing, "that's how you stimulate your g-spot, or whatever." 

"Well thank you." Casper said, laughing too, "C'mon, let's go take a shower."

Casper's bathroom was connected to his bedroom, and was almost as big as the kitchen downstairs. And of course, his shower was big as shit too. This glass door, walk-in shower was fucking huge, and it didn't have a normal shower head either. The water ran from the top, out of dozens of little spouts, so it was like it was raining, instead of just one constant flow of water. It also doubled as a sauna, and had a stone bench that bulged from the brown granite wall. 

Casper set the shower to lightly steam, dimmed the bright lights that surrounded the bathroom mirror, and then joined Mickey behind the foggy glass door. The boys used Casper's bathing sponge to lather each other up, washing the other clean, while at the same time, were still flirting. 

"You sure that was your first time?" Mickey asked jokingly, grabbing hold of Casper's ass, "you took that shit like a champ." 

Casper put his head down and smiled, "Well I had a good teacher."

"Right? Now you can roll joints and take dick!" 

They both laughed at Mickey's joke and then Casper bit Mickey's bottom lip, a trick he'd learned from his older crush. 

"You're a little freak Caz." Mickey said smiling. 

Casper would've corrected him, if he didn't love the fact that Mickey had nicknamed him. Did Mickey Milkovich like him, like him? Casper could only hope so. 

Only fucking dream it.

A moment passed and Casper moved his hands down to grab hold of Mickey's waist. He opened his eyes wide and make a look like he wanted something, and then asked Mickey a question. 

"Will you uh, come to my party tomorrow night?" 

"Uh..." Mickey began.

Mickey could only imagine what kind of a party this kid would throw. Probably just a bunch of nerds sitting around, playing chess or some shit. Googling pictures of vagina diagrams. Fucking lame. 

"I uh..." Mickey didn't want to hurt Casper's feelings.

"C'mon please. It's gonna be fucking sick! Free weed, free booze, and you can bring whoever you want!" 

Casper raised his eyebrows and made his eyes look even sadder. He pulled the South-Side boy closer, and began rubbing his thumbs against Mickey's waist. Ugh, Casper was lucky he was cute. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and let out a deep breath, "Fuck, I guess kid..." 

Casper smiled a full smile, showing both his dimples this time, and that made Mickey blush. He would've done whatever to see that smile on Casper's face. Making him happy gave Mickey a familiar feeling; a feeling of true happiness. Mickey was genuinely happy when he was with this kid. 

With this Casper. 

Everything Mickey did just felt so natural with him, and so unnatural without him. 

"...but the shit better not be lame."

To Be Continued...


	20. That's So Fucked Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was originally written as 3 separate parts, so that's why it's super long! There are still the breaks in the text though, so you know when to pause (if necessary) lol.

8:52 p.m. 

“Did I do that?” Ian asked squinting. 

“Do what?” Mickey responded without looking up.

Ian paused, his eyes peering deeper at the bruise-like mark near Mickey’s throat.

“On your neck. I don’t remember sucking that hard.” 

“Oh yeah, fuck Gallagher.” Mickey said, rubbing the love bite and knowing full well who gave it to him. “Take it easy next time, Jesus.” 

Ian and Mickey were in Mickey’s room getting dressed for Casper’s party. Casper had called Lip to remind him about coming, since he’d missed the last one and promised to be there for this one. Lip had invited Mandy to come, because he wasn’t gonna go alone, and had no other way to get to Lake Shore. Mandy then invited Ian, who told Mickey about the festivities, who wasn’t at all surprised because Lip was the only reason he knew Casper in the first place. 

This night was gonna be pretty fucking interesting. 

Ian was dressed and ready, but Mickey couldn’t decide what shirt to wear, (which was so unlike Mickey, because he usually didn’t give a fuck what he had on), and was still standing topless with his dark blue jeans on. He had a hickey on the left side of his neck, and two sets of opposite facing scratches on his upper back. He and Ian had, had sex last night, but Ian didn’t remember sucking on Mickey’s neck so hard, and he damn sure knew he wasn’t the one that had scratched Mickey’s back all up. 

Or was he?

Mickey had brought home some really good weed, and Ian had fallen asleep right after he climaxed, so he wasn’t exactly sure. 

Maybe he only dreamed he was the top? Maybe Ian _had_ been under Mickey last night, clawing into him relentlessly? Maybe what Ian thought had happened, was actually only the dream he dreamt? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t stupid. Ian knew something was up when Mickey barged in last night and threw himself on top of the redhead. Straddling Ian and kissing him wildly. 

Wait, straddling? It was all coming back to Ian. 

“Did you bottom last night?” He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

‘He better answer this shit right,’ Ian thought to himself. 

“Yeah,” Mickey answered laughing. “You don’t remember?” 

Wrong fucking answer.

“Nah,” Ian said, looking Mickey up and down suspiciously, “I was just making sure.” 

“Oh okay.” Mickey answered, still looking down at the shirts laid out on his bed, “Which one should I wear?” 

Ian was now kind of irritated, because he knew Mickey was lying about something. Whatever, Gallagher could be an asshole too. 

“The one in the middle, the white one” Ian answered, sounding like he cared.

Mickey lifted the plain t-shirt and then grimaced at his boyfriend’s homely choice. “You sure?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Ian said, reassuring him, knowing damn well Mickey’s black v-neck to right was the better option. 

Mickey put the unadorned shirt on, and then asked for a squirt of Lip’s cologne, which got Ian even more suspicious. Who the fuck was Mickey getting all clean and cute for? And why did he seem so nervous about a fucking party in Lake Shore? Ian didn’t know, but he thought he should just let it go, and try enjoying himself tonight. Spring Break was almost over, and I mean it was Mickey Milkovich after all. It was his fucking boyfriend. Mickey would’ve never cheated on Ian, ever. 

Would he? 

10:33 p.m. 

Mickey had tried telling them how big Casper’s house was, but none of them really got it until they pulled up to Laguna Shores Drive. There were cars everywhere, and teenage kids still approaching the left side of the gargantuan red-brick house. The party was being thrown on the second floor (so the white carpets and toilets downstairs wouldn’t get destroyed again), and so everyone invited had to climb the stairs of the outside deck, and then come in through the patio door. 

“Jesus,” Mandy said looking around, “these all fucking Lake Shore kids?” 

Lip shrugged his shoulders in response, and the four of them began making their way through the crowded room.

Mickey owed Casper an apology, this party was _exactly_ like something he would’ve wanted to be invited to. Casper had decided to hold his second party in the indoor basketball room, because the sleek wood floors would be easier to clean. The court was full-size, and with the baskets let up, it was the perfect location for tonight. There were red cups full of beer, tall glass Old Style beer bottles, and rolled joints and bongs everywhere. Guys were dancing on girls, and girls were kissing on guys, and everyone was just having a good time. The D.J. had a good mix of music playing, and the vibe in the room was perfect.

Ian immediately began drinking. He poured himself three shots of whiskey from the liquor table that was set against the wall, and then filled a cup with beer from the ice-cold keg sitting on the floor. Mandy, Lip, and Mickey all followed suit and began drinking too, happy they wouldn’t have to pay for anything. Lip had started rolling a joint from the bowl of weed that sat on the table, when the host of the party approached them with a smile. 

Casper looked so cute in his red and white plaid shirt. The sleeves were cut off and he had a white tank-top on underneath, purposely showing off his now more muscular arms. He had a joint in his right hand, and a plastic cup in his left, and Mickey noticed something different about his face. Was it his hair? Or maybe the lighting of the room? Mickey couldn’t tell, but Casper looked different. And the kid looked happy. 

Real fucking happy. 

“Lip!” Casper exclaimed, smiling and hugging the eldest Gallagher, “What’s up man? I haven’t seen you in forever dude! You liking the party so far? Hey what’s up uh, Ian right? How you been man? Life treating you good? Mickey! Dude! What’s up man? I fucking missed you. And oh my God I’m sorry! I can’t even remember your name, but you look so pretty,” Casper said, putting the joint on his ear, and caressing Mandy’s long hair, “so fucking pretty.” 

As Casper rambled on, Mickey took a closer look at him and things became more clear. 

Casper’s pretty brown eyes had turned dark black, making his face appear drained, and that’s why he looked so different. His large eyes were actually still brown, but only around the outside of his dilated pupils. Casper had taken half of an ecstasy tablet, and the drugs were starting to take effect, but Mickey was the only one who recognized his symptoms, because he was the one who knew Casper best. He just seemed super friendly to everyone else.

“It’s Mandy.” She reminded the boy, allowing him to continue playing with her hair. 

“Mandy.” He said, testing the name, “Such a nice name, for such a nice girl.” 

The way Casper was smiling and touching her, made it seem like he was almost flirting with Mandy, and so Lip interjected, cutting their conversation short. 

“Yeah man, ‘preciate the invite.” Lip said, sealing the joint he was rolling and pulling Mandy closer to him.

“Yeah, it’s a really good party!” Mandy added, raising her voice over the loud music. 

“Awww that’s so sweet to say! Thank you so much! There’s free drinks and weed on this table (like they didn’t see it), food and more drinks on that table (they couldn’t see that either), and there’s a couple guest rooms open if any of you feel the need to uh, _party_ party.” Casper said, smiling and making his eyebrows dance. 

He was so damn cute and rolling so fucking hard, and Mickey just wanted to make sure he would be okay. 

“Alright, thanks man.” Lip said nodding and smiling, thinking Casper was just drunk off his ass. 

“Yeah, ‘preciate it dude.” Ian added, lifting his cup in toast to Casper.

“No problem! I’m so happy all of you came! Please, have a good time! Everybody go fucking crazy! I’ll see all you guys later tonight, okay.” He said still smiling, and leaning in to give Lip a second hug.

Casper hugged Mandy too, then Ian, and lastly Mickey, before walking towards one of the exit doors. 

“I gotta use the bathroom,” Mickey informed everyone, “I’ll be right back.” 

The three acknowledged what Mickey said to them, and then continued partying as Casper had instructed. 

“Come dance with me!” Mandy said, dragging Ian onto the dance floor.

The redhead put his cup down on the liquor table, and began dancing with his best friend, while at the same time, watched his boyfriend make his way to the same door Casper had used. 

And then Mickey exited the party. 

11:15 p.m.

Mickey met up with Casper around the corner, past the bathroom door. There were two guest bedrooms behind them, but nobody occupied them yet, so it seemed like a pretty safe place to talk. Mickey stuck his head around the corner to ensure the coast was clear, and once he saw no one was coming, asked Casper a question. 

“How many did you take?” He inquired, stern and quiet.

“Awww, you care.” Casper said in a normal tone of voice, “Calm down, only half. Look see…here’s the other one.” He added, reaching into his front pocket. 

“Okay good. You need to relax kid.” Mickey said, still sounding parental.

“Mmmm _“relax,”_ huh?” Casper repeated, stepping closer to Mickey and grabbing him by the waist. 

Mickey knew Casper was referring to their first time together, and it made him blush. He had only been with one other virgin before, so the memory of this kid was gonna last him a lifetime. Mickey pushed Casper off though, and then held the boy’s soft hands in his own, (taking the remainder of the party favor from Casper, and popping into his mouth dry). 

“There, that way I know you’ll be alright.” Mickey said, making a disgusted face at the bitter taste on his tongue. 

Casper smiled and was quiet then, which was a surprise because of the mixture of drugs in his system. He just liked having Mickey around, and Casper had been missing him ever since he left yesterday. The younger boy looked at his crush again closer, and then started laughing.

“Damn! Did I do that?” Casper asked still laughing, and squinting at Mickey’s neck the same way Ian had been earlier.  
  
“Hell yeah you did! Fucking Galla-” 

Mickey stopped when heard himself mentioning his boyfriend. He stepped closer to Casper, and then planted a kiss on the boy’s lips. 

“Just fucking watch that shit next time. I didn’t even notice.” 

“Next time?” Casper asked with a smile.

Mickey smiled too, and then bit his bottom lip. He didn’t give Casper a verbal answer, but the look he gave the kid said it all. 

“I gotta get back in there man. I was just checking on you.” 

“Thanks _dad_ , but I’m fine. It’s not my first time for everything!” Casper joked. “Meet me back here before you leave?” He asked, so it was a question.

“Alright sure. I’ll text you, so have your phone.” Mickey said, giving him one more peck on the lips, and then turning back to re-enter the party. 

11:30 p.m.

Ian was drunk now, and rocking back and forth to the loud music that was blaring through the D.J.’s speakers. He looked really cute too, now that his face didn’t appear so fucking pissed. Ian always was such a good dancer, and he looked fucking hot grinding against Mandy like that. They were just having fun, but Ian looked damn good doing it. 

Mickey could feel his heart start to pound, and everything around him became sharp. His body forced him to take deeper breathes, as the ecstasy began making it’s way through his bloodstream. Mickey’s mind wanted to take in all the crystal clear images around him, causing the room and it’s inhabitant’s movements to appear quickened. Watching his boyfriend dance made Mickey smile, and he wanted to go touch Ian. 

To _feel_ Ian. 

“What are you doing?” Ian asked confused, as Mickey put his hand up the back of Ian’s shirt, feeling the hot sweat on the surface of the redhead’s skin. 

“You feel so fucking good.” Mickey breathed heavily into his ear. 

“Yeah Mick, but uh…people can see us.”

The fluorescent lights of the basketball court were cut off, but with all the colorful strobe and neon lights going, there was enough visibility in the room to see Mickey touching Ian. To see one guy, groping another. 

“Do you know any of these kids? I don’t know any of ‘em, shit. Who gives a fuck right? We were fucking invited here! And it’s a free fucking country!” 

Ian couldn’t tell Mickey had started rolling, but Mickey was making a valid point. Shit, Ian didn’t care, if Mickey didn’t. 

Ian pulled Mickey in with his left hand and tugged at Mickey’s bottom lip with his teeth. His left hand was still on the back of Mickey’s neck, as Mickey broke the kiss to lick the line of sweat dripping down Ian’s neck. Mickey then began sucking on Ian’s earlobe, and biting his cheek, before locking their lips together again. 

“Way to steal my fucking dance partner!” Mandy yelled at Mickey.

Her older brother just raised his tattooed middle finger at her, without breaking his kiss with her best friend. 

“Asshole.” Mandy mumbled under her breath, and then walked back over to Lip. 

“Mick what’s gotten into-” Ian started. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Mickey said, pressing his index finger against Ian’s mouth, silencing him.

Mickey stared at Ian for a long awkward moment, without any expression on his face. The corners of his mouth then turned up, and Mickey smiled the sweetest smile. 

“I love you.” He told Ian, and then kissed his boyfriend’s lips again. 

3:27 a.m.

Mickey and Ian had spent the rest of the night together. They passed joints back and forth, and publicly displayed their affections for one another. After spending all night together, Ian had gotten over being pissed at Mickey. He trusted his boyfriend. And after all the drinks, drugs, and the close dancing, Ian just wanted to hurry home and fuck the shit out of him. 

Mickey had, had a change of heart too. Being on the E and having spent such a free night with Ian made him feel bad. He knew what he’d been doing with Casper was wrong, and that Ian didn’t deserve to be cheated on. 

Gallagher deserved better than that shit.

Fuck how cute Casper was. And fuck the fact that Mickey was his first time. Ian was the one who had his heart, and he needed to make this shit right. 

Mickey texted Casper like he said he would, and then went to go meet up with the kid, while at the same time, Ian began looking for Lip and Mandy, who had disappeared over the course of the night. 

“Wasn’t as lame as you thought it’d be, huh?” Casper asked smiling.

The effects of the ecstasy had worn off in both boys, and they had the same bullshit feeling of restlessness. 

“It was pretty sick…for a Lake Shore party.” Mickey said, smiling back. 

He was so used to flirting with Casper, but Mickey knew he had to stop. He’d come to talk to the kid for a reason, to break it all off with him.

“I’m glad you had fun.” Casper said still smiling, “So uh, when can I see you again?” 

Mickey paused and took a deep breath. This was it. 

“You can’t kid.” 

Casper’s face got just as serious as his voice, “What do you mean?” 

Mickey paused again. 

“I uh, I can’t see you anymore. I have a boyfriend.” He said, looking Casper in his pretty brown eyes, their light color now fully restored.

“Shut the fuck up.” Casper responded with a nervous smile, hoping it was a joke.

When Mickey didn’t say anything he knew it was the truth, and his half-smile faded. Casper’s lip quivered, and tears began welling in his eyes.

“W-why would you-, I thought you-, I thought you said you liked me?” Casper asked, his voice cracking as the first drop fell. 

Mickey used his right thumb to wipe the warm tear away, and then took a step closer to the boy, hoping to mend the heart he was breaking. 

“Caz don’t be like that, you know I do. I’m just-, I’m in love with somebody else.” Mickey explained, trying to sound as compassionate as possible. 

“That’s so fucked up.” Casper said, shaking his head in disbelief, his voice low and broken as he spoke. 

Casper then bowed his head and tried fighting back the tears that were falling to the floor. He used his hand to try and clean his face, but a new line of tears would just appear and replace the ones previously removed. The sight of Casper breaking down was beginning to eat at Mickey’s insides, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He really did care about this kid and he never, ever wanted to hurt him. He should’ve just stayed away.

What the fuck was wrong with Mickey Milkovich? 

“I’m so sorry Casper, really I am.” Mickey’s eyes began to water too, because he knew this was the end, “I never wanted any of this to happen. I’m so so sorry.” 

Mickey’s apology only made the kid feel worse, but as he wiped another one of Casper’s tears clean, Casper didn’t dare try moving Mickey’s rough hand from his face. 

The kid had fallen in love, Casper Duncan was _in love_ with Mickey Milkovich.

“I-I just don’t get it.” Casper said, keeping his head down. 

Mickey paused. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Casper’s voice was more than painful to listen to. He really was sorry. Mickey Milkovich was the sorriest motherfucker around. 

“I’m just so sorry Caz. I am.”

Mickey used the right hand that was still on Casper’s face to grip the boy harder. He maneuvered his head under Casper’s and pressed their lips together hard, keeping his tongue to himself. Mickey kissed him slow and passionate, the way he knew Casper loved, for one final time. 

For one final kiss goodbye. 

And then Ian Gallagher bent the corner of the long, winding hallway.

To Be Continued…

3:31 a.m. 

There was no way. 

There was no fucking way. 

Ian must’ve been imagining this, or someone had to of slipped something into one of his drinks, because there was no way he was seeing this shit right. There was no way Mickey could be doing _that_ with anyone else. Ian had backed up, and was peering around the corner, unable to turn from the horror set before him. And as much as he thought it impossible, and as much as Ian wished it untrue, there it was, clear as day. 

Mickey Milkovich _kissing_ someone else. 

Ian couldn’t fucking believe it. Mickey had Casper’s face in both his hands and was kissing him, fucking kissing him. And the way he was doing it? So slow and meaningful, it was like Mickey liked the kid. Ian wasn’t able to see that both boys had been crying, but that probably would’ve just made things worse. 

Ian thought about it, about turning that corner again and beating the shit out of Mickey (and Casper too for that matter), but he felt too empty. Ian was too empty. This was more than Mickey just fucking some dude, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Ian never felt so disgusted in all his life, and he couldn’t remember feeling so betrayed either. Everything he knew changed in an instant, and Ian felt like things would never be the same. How could anything be the same after this? 

Nothing would ever be the same again.

3:34 a.m. 

After Mickey came and stole her dance partner, Mandy and Lip had snuck off to one of the guest bedrooms, and spent the remainder of their evening having some hot, drunken sex. Lip’s whiskey-dick had kept him from cumming, and so the two had been M.I.A. for a while now. They were exiting the bedroom door, laughing and adjusting their clothes, when Ian walked past them and Mandy tried speaking.

“Ha! You just be ready for round-, oh shit hey Ian.” She said, cutting her conversation with Lip off. 

“Hey.” He mumbled, without looking in her direction. 

“What’s with him?” Lip asked, taking a closer look at his sulking younger brother. 

“I don’t know. He seemed fine earlier when he was with Mick.” 

Ian could hear them talking, and Mandy’s words brought to mind all the recent events of this now spoiled evening. Mickey feeling Ian up on the dance floor, kissing him in front of everyone. Mickey expressing to Ian how much he loved him, while the entire time, he was lying directly to Ian’s face. “I love you,” Mickey had said to him. Please, there was no way Mickey Milkovich could love Ian and do that to him. 

No fucking way. 

Ian’s eyes began to water as he thought more and more about the treacherous acts of his boyfriend. That fucking hickey on his neck? His scratched up back? Mickey didn’t even care about keeping his cheating a fucking secret. 

Did he even still care about Ian? Had Mickey _ever_ cared about him?

“Can we just get the fuck outta here!” Ian yelled down the hallway.

And then stormed out the second-floor patio door.

4:20 a.m.

“What are you doing?” Mickey asked confused.

“The fuck it look like.” Ian answered with venom in his voice. 

“Gallagher, what the fuck?” 

Mickey had been able to tell something was wrong with Ian during the car ride home from Lake Shore. His boyfriend wouldn’t talk to him, or even look at him, he just fucking sat there, quiet and still. Why did Ian seem so pissed again? Mickey wouldn’t’ve guessed it had anything to do with him, and he was even more confused when he walked into his shared bedroom and found Ian packing up his clothes. 

Like all his clothes. 

What the fuck was going on? 

“Yeah Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian repeated, still throwing items into one of his camouflage duffle bags. 

“I-I don’t understand.” Mickey stuttered out. 

He could see how mad Ian was, and it made him start to panic. What the fuck had he done to Ian Gallagher? 

“You know, I thought we were better than that Mickey.” Ian said, still putting clothes away. “We made it official, agreed not to fuck anybody else. I’m the one who don’t fucking understand.” 

Ian’s voice was so calm as he spoke, and that made Mickey even more nervous. He still hadn’t connected Ian knowing about him and Casper though, and he probably never would’ve. Mickey just wanted to figure out what was wrong with Ian. The fact that his boyfriend was upset, was the only thing on his mind. 

“The fuck are you talkin’ bout?” Mickey asked, still confused at Ian’s actions and anger. 

Ian stopped packing and finally turned to face Mickey. His green eyes watered as he grew angrier, and his once calm voice was now more toxic than ever. Ian glared at the older boy for a long second, and then spoke out loud. 

“Really Mickey? You just gonna keep lying to my fucking face.” 

As Mickey gazed into Ian’s cold eyes, saw the colder expression on his innocent face, and _listened_ to the words his boyfriend spoke, all his misplaced anger seemed to make more sense. Ian knew, he fucking knew, and now Mickey had no words to speak. He just stood there, that same ecstasy-induced, expression-less stare on his face as before. Mickey knew this was bad, and so he couldn’t say the wrong thing and fuck up his one chance to be forgiven.

Another moment passed, and when Mickey didn’t respond, Ian spoke again. 

“He gave you that, didn’t he. That nasty ass hickey and those fucking scratches on your back.” 

Mickey still didn’t respond, but he wouldn’t break eye contact. Maybe Ian could see how sorry he was through his eyes? 

“And what, you just come home and act like it never happened?” Ian asked, sounding more hurt this time. 

Maybe not?

“That’s so fucked up.” Ian said, sounding as broken as Casper had when he’d voiced the same exact words. 

The déjà vu sent chills down Mickey’s spine, and that was the moment he knew both boys he’d been playing were absolutely right.

Mickey Milkovich was so fucked up. 

Ian then zipped his bag full of clothes shut, and threw it over his left shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore,” he informed his boyfriend, and then walked towards the door to exit. 

“No Gallagher please!” Mickey finally spoke, grabbing Ian by his arm. “Can we just talk.” 

“I don’t wanna fucking talk. If all you do is lie, how can I trust you Mickey? And how can I be with you, if I can’t trust you?” Ian asked plainly, snatching his arm free from Mickey’s grip and stepping back closer to the door.

“Ian please! It only happened once! Just let me fucking explain, please!”

Ian turned to look back at Mickey, and they were both silent as they stared into each other’s eyes. He had called him _Ian._ Mickey hardly ever called him that. Maybe he deserved to at least tell his side of the story? 

Maybe Mickey deserved that much. 

“Fucking explain!” Ian yelled at him.

Mickey was starting to get pissed off. Sure, he was the one who had been cheating, but Ian wasn’t gonna keep talking to him like that. Gallagher’s ass wasn’t perfect either, but Mickey set his pride aside and kept his cool for now. 

“It was yesterday. He came on to me! I-I coulda pushed him off, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry. And so tonight, I go to break it off with him, and he starts crying and shit. It made me fucking feel bad, just standing there watching him, so I-I tried to make him feel better.” 

Ian listened to Mickey’s patchy explanation, and knew he was leaving out some important details. Casper wouldn’t’ve just came onto him for no reason. 

“So that was your first time kissing him?” Ian asked, skeptical of the short, to-the-point story. 

Mickey looked away from Ian then, and couldn’t decided wether to voice a lie or the truth. But when Mickey looked back at his boyfriend, the reality was subsequently written in his blue eyes. 

“See, you’re just a piece-of-shit liar and-” 

“It was like being with you.” Mickey said, cutting Ian off. 

Ian paused.

“What?” He then asked, sounding angrier than before. 

“Yeah, but like…it was different. I-I don’t know man, I was different.” 

Ian’s angry face twisted into a look of confusion, and so Mickey began elaborating his answer. 

“Like…I didn’t have to be scared, or hold back, or no shit like that. It was like I was getting a second chance with you, but this time I could like…do all the shit right. I don’t know if that’s makes sense, but yeah. And then at the party it all clicked like, “this kid isn’t Ian, this shit is fucked up,” so I really did go to break it off with him, but the fucking kid broke down crying and shit, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

Mickey’s explanation was one of the stupidest things Ian Gallagher had ever heard. It pissed him off to know that Mickey had been kissing Casper more than once, but Ian also knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault. There was no way Mickey had told Casper about him and Ian being together, and it fucking takes two to kiss. 

Ian actually kinda felt bad for the kid. 

“The fuck is wrong with you Mickey?! You can’t just go around playing with people like that! Me, Casper. If the kid was crying, it was for a fucking reason. You _gave_ him a reason to cry!” 

As Ian yelled at Mickey, the entire situation became more clear in his mind. Mickey had been _kissing_ Casper, and Casper had been _sucking_ Mickey’s neck, and the kid had started _crying_ when Mickey went to talk to him. There was way too much going on between them, too many emotions involved. The type of emotions that only found way to light, when two people had more than just casual sex. 

“It was more than just fucking with him, wasn’t it?” Ian asked, sounding enlightened. 

Mickey paused and looked away, answering Ian without answering him. 

“I-I love you.” Mickey said, looking back at the redhead. 

“You what?” Ian asked in disbelief. 

“I said I lov-” Mickey tried repeating.

Mickey wasn’t serious was he? Ian punched him right in his lying ass mouth, as he tried repeating that fucking bullshit to him. Mickey thought it was okay to just throw those three words around? 

Hell fucking no.

“You don’t fucking love me! If you did, you wouldn’t’ve done the shit!” Ian yelled at Mickey, who was bent over holding his bloody mouth, “You weren’t even gonna fucking tell me!” 

Gallagher wasn’t trying to understand where Mickey was coming from, and now he was fucking hitting him too? That shit pissed Mickey off even more, and him keeping his cool wasn’t an option this time. 

“Love?” Mickey challenged, spitting blood to the floor, “What about Trahan? You wasn’t gonna say shit about that, your ass got fucking caught! But shit, I guess that was love then huh?” 

Was Mickey still holding on to that?

“Fuck you Mickey! We talked about that, and you know that shit didn’t mean anything! What about the fact that I can’t enlist huh?” 

“What?” Mickey asked, confused and angry. 

“Yeah, I guess your snitchin’ ass don’t remember that.” Ian said, sizing Mickey up.

Was Gallagher still holding on to _that_? 

“Nobody told you to leave Gallagher! Or to lie and use Lip’s fucking name! You did that stupid shit on your own, so don’t fucking blame me!” 

“Whatever, now I’ll never be able to do the one thing I’ve always wanted! I’m just fucking _STUCK_ here with you!” Ian yelled, emphasizing the most evil word. 

Mickey and Ian had never fought like this, and both boys were saying shit that they didn’t mean. Ian’s last words were too much though, that shit was crossing the line. He knew Mickey did what he did because he loved Ian, and because he wanted him home safe. And now Gallagher was throwing it all back in his fucking face?

“Stuck.” Mickey repeated. “Ain’t nobody forcing your ass to stay here Gallagher.” 

Mickey had stopped yelling, but there was still an angry tone present in his voice. Ian looked him up and down again, and then lifted his packed bag from the floor. 

“Shit, you’re finally right about something.” Ian said, matching Mickey’s tone of voice and turning again to exit the room. 

“Off to ya’ lil boyfriend Nick’s house huh?” Mickey spat in disgust.

Ian smirked and shrugged his shoulders in response, as he continued closer to the door. He knew what he was doing to Mickey, and Ian felt like he fucking deserved it. 

“You know what? Fuck you Ian! You probably already let him fuck you and just didn’t tell me!” Mickey accused, trying to get a reaction out of him. “I knew that ass felt a little different lately.” 

Ian knew Mickey was being belligerent because he was pissed off, and Ian was happy because he knew he’d gotten under Mickey’s skin. But two could play that game, and Ian wanted to push Mickey’s buttons in even further. 

“Ha!” Ian laughed, turning his head to smirk at Mickey again, “We all know you’re the power bottom around here, you fucking faggot.” 

Mickey’s mouth and stomach dropped simultaneously, and he started seeing red all over again. Ian had never disrespected him like that, and that shit genuinely hurt Mickey’s feelings. He had no idea Ian could think some fucked up shit like that about him, or even say it out loud, no matter how pissed off he was. Gallagher wanted to play?

Alright, let’s fucking play. 

Mickey grabbed Ian by the packed bag that was on his shoulders, and slung the younger boy to the floor. He then got on top of Ian and began punching him directly in his face, trying his best to _hurt_ Ian. The redhead used his forearms to block the wild punches coming at him, and then tried his best rolling over, until he was again standing on his feet. Ian could feel the blood dripping from his nose and running over his lips, as he swung right and left hooks at his cheating boyfriend. Each one of Ian’s punches was either connecting with Mickey’s face or his head, and it was starting to piss Mickey off even more. He and Ian had sparred a few times, but they had never been in an actual fight, and Mickey was surprised at how well Ian was holding his own. 

Tired of receiving constant blows to the head, Mickey tackled Ian to the floor again, bumping them both into his tall dresser, causing numerous items to fall to the floor. Mickey was on top of Ian again, using his fists as weapons to bludgeon Ian’s face, until the younger boy used his thumbs to gouge Mickey’s pretty blue eyes. 

“Fuck Gallagher!” Mickey cried out in pain, un-balling his fists and using his fingers to rub his throbbing eyeballs.

As Mickey tried easing his pain, Ian switched the positions they were in (getting on top of Mickey like he’d done Ian), and whaling off on his already swollen face. Ian was hitting Mickey hard, and there was blood all over his knuckles, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The pain he was inflicting upon Mickey didn’t compare to ache Ian still felt in his heart. To the sick feeling still in the pit of his stomach. 

And Ian wasn’t gonna stop, not until he was good and ready. 

4:52 a.m. 

Mickey struggled to reach his left hand out, trying his best to retrieve one of his twenty pound hand weights to assist him in the fight, but Ian didn’t let that shit happen. What, Mickey thought he was blind? And was he really gonna hit him with that fucking weight? Ian didn’t know, but shit, Gallagher could fucking use weapons too. 

Ian reached for one of the two beer bottles that had fallen off of the dresser when Mickey tackled him, and then broke it against the side of Mickey’s wooden wardrobe. As Ian raised the broken bottle high into the air and plunged it swiftly towards his neck, Mickey shut his eyes tight, fearful his boyfriend was about to rob him of his young, shitty life. 

A long moment passed, and Mickey’s eyes were still shut. Ian was still on top of him with the bottle, but Mickey was still alive. When he slowly opened his eyes, Mickey found his boyfriend crying. Not like before when he was mad, but the cry Mickey hated seeing. Ian’s green eyes were puffy and wet, and a tear was about to roll down his soft freckled cheek. 

Ian could’ve kept hitting Mickey, but he didn’t. He really was sorry that the fight had come to this, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. All of the lies and the fighting, and all of Mickey’s bullshit. He just couldn’t do it. Ian still didn’t understand why Mickey would do that to him, why he would _kiss_ someone else, (and why the fuck he was still lying about it).

Ian still loved Mickey, loved him more than anything, but he couldn’t do it anymore. Ian was fed up, and he was in love. 

But he just couldn’t do it anymore.

“You have no idea how long I waited to kiss you.” Ian said, getting up off of Mickey and dropping the bottle to his feet. “No fucking idea.” 

Mickey remained sprawled out on the floor as Ian finished his teary-eyed confession. And as Ian spoke his truth, the pain Mickey caused him became more evident to the dark-haired juvenile. 

“You remember what you said to me the first time I tried kissing you?” Ian asked, his voice low and broken again. “It took me years to get you to kiss me Mickey, years. And even longer for you to say you love me. And now it’s like…none of it means shit to you. None of it.” 

“You know that’s not true.” Mickey argued.

“Just stop Mickey. Please, just fucking stop. I-I can’t do this anymore.” 

“Can’t do what anymore?” Mickey asked, struggling to prop himself up against his dresser.

“This Mickey.” Ian said, pointing his index finger back-and-forth between them. “Us.” 

“W-What are saying?” Mickey asked, terrified of the answer, as he watched Ian finally walk through the doorway. 

“It’s over Mick.” He responded painfully, as another tear fell from his face. 

And then Ian closed the open door of his ex-boyfriend’s room behind him. 

To Be Continued…

4:55 a.m.

Mickey’s head was heavy, and the brightly lit room spun faster as he tried standing to his feet. He made his way sluggishly to his connecting bathroom, his body aching worse with each step, courtesy of the ass-whooping he’d just received. The familiar taste of blood filled his sore mouth, and his mind was racing faster than it had ever been before.

Once in the bathroom, Mickey looked himself in the mirror, and was completely disgusted by what he saw. Not because of the dripping blood, or the fresh cuts and bruises, but because of the piece-of-shit hiding behind them. _What the fuck had he been thinking?_ He was the one who’d cheated, so why try and turn it back around? It didn’t matter what Ian had said or done to him, he had a reason to be pissed off, and Mickey deserved the beating he’d received. 

Shit, he probably deserved that fucking bottle to his neck too. 

Mickey spat a mouthful of blood into the bathroom sink, and then stripped himself clean of his ruined party clothes. He adjusted the shower water until it was scorching hot, and let the burning aqua run all over his battered body. Mickey’s blue eyes were shut tight, and Ian was on his mind, and all he could do was cry. Cry because he knew he was wrong, and cry because he didn’t know how to fix it. Mickey couldn’t deny the fact that he did like Casper, but it was just a simple crush. He felt like shit for what he’d done to the kid, but he would’ve never spoken to him again if that’s what it took. Mickey would’ve never _thought_ about Casper again, he just needed his Ian back. 

Back for good. 

By the time Mickey’s balls were hanging as low as they could go, and his fingertips were more wrinkled than Grammy Gallagher’s neck (R.I.P. Peggy), he’d stopped crying and decided it was probably time to use some soap. But as he opened his eyes and looked around for the bar, his eyes began watering again. In his hurry to leave, Ian obviously hadn’t packed his shit from the bathroom, and now all his things left behind, were like reminders of what Mickey had lost. His expensive shampoo that degreased his hair and made it smell the way it did, the bottle of shower gel Ian bought because he hated using Mickey’s white bar soap, and that towel that was drying on the rack suction-cupped against the square tile wall? That was Ian’s towel drying, **not** Mickey’s. 

Mickey cut the shower water off as fast as he could, and darted into his bedroom without drying off, or even putting on clothes. He hurried to his nightstand and retrieved the orange bottle of prescription drugs that belonged to his very recent, very slutty ex-wife. Mickey popped the white child-proof lid off of the container, and swallowed all of the small pills he’d dumped into his palm. He then washed the medicine down with the gin that sat on his tall dresser (one of the few items that hadn’t been knocked down earlier), walked back into the bathroom to retrieve his cellphone from his bloody jean’s pocket, and then laid face-up naked in his bed. 

Mickey spent a good twenty minutes typing out an apology text to send to Ian. The message expressed his love, and his remorse, and how if Ian would take him back, he would’ve never hurt him again. But after reading the message over and over, Mickey could only imagine Ian would disregard it as more bullshit lies, and so he didn’t send it. He _couldn’t_ send it. Mickey took another three big gulps from the bottle of liquor he’d kept close, and then threw his stupid fucking phone against the wall. He spent the rest of his night/morning laying alone in his bed, crying, thinking about how he’d hurt his Ian. 

And the warm tears didn’t stop flowing, until the unorthodox mixture of drugs and liquor in Mickey’s system rendered him unconscious. 

2:07 p.m.

Lip and Mandy had just woken up maybe ten minutes ago. They’d spent all night partying, and all morning fucking, and had needed a good night’s rest after all the festivities. Mandy had woken Lip up, placing his afternoon wood in her mouth, and lightly sucking on the sensitive tip of his hard cock. Once wide awake, Lip excused himself to go piss and brush his teeth, and once he was done, headed into Mickey’s room. Lip had needed to borrow a condom from Ian (he ran out last night), but once he opened the door and saw Mickey passed out naked, he back up and left it cracked slightly.

“Oh shit! Sorry man, is Ian in there?” 

Lip waited but didn’t hear anyone respond. 

“Mickey?” He asked through the semi-open door. 

After Lip waited again and still didn’t get a response, he opened the door and hurried over to the bed. Mickey was passed out and had a pulse, but it felt really weak, and his limp body was _covered_ in sweat. Lip immediately dragged him into the shower and ran cold water all over his still naked body. He pulled the shower curtain back to cover Mickey’s dick, and then called Mandy for help. Once in the room, she quickly dialed the emergency number, and then handed her phone to Lip.

“What?!” He questioned the male dispatcher angrily. 

Mandy could hear a voice coming from the phone, but the words weren’t clear enough for her to understand. 

“That’s so fucked up!” Lip yelled at the man. “He has a pulse, but it’s not strong _at all_! You gotta send help NOW!” 

Mandy snatched her cell from Lip and put it on speakerphone, desperate to hear what the asshole on the other end would say. 

“They’re coming as soon as they can.” 

To Be Continued…


	21. I Won't Tell If You Don't.

“Ian…” 

Nick waited. 

“…Ian…” 

Nick waited longer. 

“…IAN!”

“Huh?” He finally responded, looking up and sounding surprised. 

It had been two days since Casper’s party, and one day since Ian broke up with Mickey, and Ian had been taking things pretty hard. He and Nick had been at the Kash & Grab for a shift for the last three hours, and Ian had confided in Nick all the bullshit that went down that night. Bullshit that hurt like Hell, and bullshit Ian couldn’t stop thinking of. He had needed to talk to somebody, to anybody, to just get this shit off his mind…

It didn’t fucking work. 

After Ian finished telling Nick everything, he’d gotten really quiet. Linda had came in and made Nick go stock a shelf, but once he was finished and came back to start a happier conversation, Ian was completely silent. The redhead was just sitting there, using his right thumb to caress the 14k, gold rope chain that hung from his neck. He looked sad, and his beautiful green eyes were fixated on the glass front door of the Kash & Grab. 

Ian was daydreaming, and Nick was pretty sure he knew why. 

“Just go fucking talk to him already, Jesus.” He suggested, sounding annoyed. 

“Fuck off Nick, you’re suppose to be on my side!” 

Nick had, had a crush on Ian since way back at Gunderson House, and with Milkovich fucking shit up, this was his chance to make his move, to try and take his relationship with Ian to the next level. Nick didn’t bother though, he knew it was wishful thinking. Being around them, you couldn’t help but see how much love Ian felt for Mickey, and vice-versa, so why even put himself out there? Nick knew the only way to help, was to try getting them back together, because as much as he wanted Ian to himself, he’d rather see Red happy. He’d rather see him happy with Milkovich, than see him miserable all alone. 

“I am on your side!” Nick insisted. “You need to go talk to him.” 

“Fuc-“

“Not Mickey, the other kid.” Nick said, cutting him off. “What was his name again?”

“Casper.” Ian answered emotionlessly. 

“Yeah, go talk to him. He’s the only other one who knows what _really_ happened. If Milkovich ain’t telling the whole truth, go find out what it really is.” 

Ian hadn’t thought about getting answers from Casper. He had wanted nothing more but to go and make up with his ex-boyfriend already, but Ian just couldn’t trust Mickey to tell him everything that happened between them.

Maybe Nick was right? 

“I don’t even have a way to get out there. That’s not the kinda talk you have over the phone.” Ian responded.

“Here,” Nick said, tossing him the lanyard that had his keys attached to the end, “take my mom’s car.” 

“I don’t get off until-” 

“Don’t worry about the store.” Nick said, cutting him off a second time, “If Mrs. Karib comes back, I’ll make up some excuse.” 

Nick had never been so nice to Ian, and it kinda took him by surprise. He was always super cool whenever he wanted to fuck, but that was mainly for his own benefit. What the Hell did Nick get out of _helping_ Ian? Fucking him was one thing, but helping? 

“Thanks Nick.” Ian said smiling, still kinda shocked at the gesture. 

Nick was happy to see Ian finally smiling. And he was even happier because he knew he was the reason why the redhead’s once gloomy face, was now bright and glowing. 

“Don’t mention it Red, I can’t have you all depressed and shit.”

With the grin still present on his face, Ian got up from the stool and headed towards the door. “I thought you weren’t suppose to call me that?” 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Nick said, flirting with his freckled-faced crush. 

Ian smiled harder, rolled his eyes, and thanked Nick again. He then exited the glass doors of the Kash & Grab, and began driving North towards Laguna Shores Drive. 

On his way to Lake Shore, Ian texted Lip for Casper’s number, and then called the kid to make sure he was home. He had sounded pretty bad on the phone, but Casper looked even worse when Ian showed up at his doorstep. The boy was dressed in a light blue v-neck, with a black pair of cargo shorts, and black socks on. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and the end of his nose was bright red with irritation. He had obviously been crying about something, but the salty tears were dry for now. Casper also had a topless bottle of single malt whisky in his left hand, and judging from the kid’s breath, he’d already taken a sip or two from it. 

“What’s up Ian?” Casper asked, slurring his shaky words. 

“Hey man, y-you okay?” Ian asked hesitantly. 

The kid obviously wasn’t. 

“I’m fine, never better.” Casper answered, sounding like he wanted to cry, “So what’s up man, you forget something here?” 

Ian paused, trying to be considerate of Casper’s feelings. 

“Nah uh, I kinda need to talk to you.”

Casper was confused, “Talk to me about what?” 

Ian paused again, looking away and then back at Casper. 

“About you and Mickey Milkovich.” 

Hearing Ian speak his name out loud, was like stabbing a knife through Casper’s already bleeding heart. The kid had been crying about Mickey for the last day, and as much as it was going to hurt him, he kind of _wanted_ to talk about Mickey. The short South-Side juvenile was all that had been on Casper’s mind, and maybe now he could get some answers as to why his first love would just up and leave him like that. 

Casper opened the door wider, signaling Ian to enter his alluring abode. The two made their way into the formal living room, and then were seated on the caramel colored sofa. Casper quickly rolled a joint from the small pile of weed on the table, and then began plunging the knife back deep into his chest. 

“So,” he said putting the joint between his lips and lighting it, “what about him?” 

At this point Casper didn’t know Ian was gay. He didn’t know he was Mickey’s ex-boyfriend either, or that Ian was “technically” the reason why he was feeling the way he was. 

“I know you guys hooked up, I just need to know how it happened.” Ian answered, sounding slightly hurt himself. 

That was the second time the redhead had used the word “need” instead of “want.” That, plus the tone of Ian’s voice, made the situation more clear. Ian was Mickey’s boyfriend, and Casper wasn’t the only one who was in love with him. The kid was still hurting, but he wasn’t an asshole. 

And he damn sure wasn’t a fucking home-wrecker.

“I’m so sorry.” Casper said putting the joint down, “I didn’t know he had a boyfriend.”

Ian was shocked again. He could see how shitty Casper was feeling, but the kid was still apologizing to _him_? And how the fuck did Casper know he and Mickey had made it official? Ian was definitely still missing something. 

“It’s okay kid. I know it wasn’t your fault.” 

Casper smiled a relieved half-smile, and then Ian lifted the still lit joint from the ashtray, and took a drag.

“How did you know me and him were together?” Ian asked, expelling smoke from both his nostrils. 

The brunette paused, his heart beginning to race as Ian initiated his interrogation. 

“He uh, he told me. He said that was the reason he couldn’t see me anymore.” Casper said, his voice cracking as he voiced his last sentence. 

Ian took a closer look at the kid, and could tell something big had went down between them. You didn’t catch feeling like this from a casual fuck, and it was obvious Casper was crushing on Mickey. 

Crushing on Mickey _hard_. 

“What happened between you two?” Ian asked, sounding as compassionate as possible. 

“W-what do you mean?” Casper responded, trying to fight back the tears welling inside of him. 

“Like did anything crazy happen? Anything special?” 

As he recalled his first time with Mickey, Casper could feel the invisible knife twist deeper into his left ventricle. He knew Mickey was his first, but it hadn’t really registered until that moment, the moment Ian said the word _special_. Maybe that was why the shit hurt so bad? He’d given Mickey everything, and even fallen in love with the asshole, just to be left out to dry. 

“He was-” Casper stopped, afraid again that he might upset Ian. 

“He was what?” Ian asked, more curious than ever. 

When Casper didn’t immediately respond, Ian assured him it was okay to say what was on his mind. Casper was still hesitant, but finally found the courage to speak up. 

“He was…my first time.” 

“What?!” Ian exclaimed. 

Hearing his voice and seeing his expression, Casper thought Ian was mad, but it was still just shock radiating through the redhead’s body. 

“Wait, you gotta back the story up kid. Tell me how it all started.” 

Casper paused again. He remembered _exactly_ how everything happened, and he was even more worried Ian might get mad at him. 

After all, _he_ was the one who had started it. 

“Well really, I think it kind of started back when he came to fix the downstairs’ toilet. I was uh, flirting with him. And now looking back…I think he was flirting with me too.” 

Ian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and his brow furrowed as he listened to the preface of Casper’s story. The kid could sense Ian’s discomfort, and that made him not want to continue. 

“I’m sorry man. I-I shouldn’t say anymore.” 

“I’m not mad at you Casper, you didn’t know.” Ian said, reassuring him. “This whole thing was just so fucked up, and now you’re the only one that can tell me the truth.”

It was Casper who looked at Ian for a long moment then. The redhead was definitely right about that. Without question, this shit was completely fucked up. 

“The second time we saw each other was the day before my party. I uh, I came on to him. He pushed me off at first, but then he let me-” 

Casper was a combination of embarrassed, nervous, and heartbroken, and so detailing his first real sexual experience with a guy wasn’t making him feel better. Shit, thinking and talking about Mickey Milkovich was just making the kid feel worse. 

“Stop being such a pussy kid,” Ian said smiling, trying to liven Casper’s mood, “what’d he let you do?” 

Casper let out a little laugh and smile as he looked at Ian’s sweet freckled face. The corners of the redhead’s mouth were turned up, and his bright green eyes had a sort of sparkle to them. Casper had always thought Ian was kind of cute, but he’d never seen his face so close. He’d never seen Ian’s face look the way it did now. Casper felt another sense of relief, and then continued his tragic love story. 

“I went down on him right there,” He said pointing to an empty space on the white carpet, “and then I moved him here, so he could sit down while I did it.” 

Listening to Casper’s version was pissing Ian off, and at the same time, turning him the fuck on. He couldn’t help but envision this kid’s full pink lips wrapped around Mickey’s hard, throbbing cock, helplessly gagging on it while being forced to go deeper. But then Ian remembered why he so pissed in the first place. 

He remembered why he was so **_hurt_** in the first place. 

“When was first time you guys kissed?” Ian asked, trying not to show emotion.

“It’s kinda funny actually, it happened then. I tried leaning in to kiss him before he sat down, but he backed his head up and wouldn’t let me.” 

Now _THAT_ sounded like the Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher knew and loved. 

“So how’d it happened?” Ian asked intrigued. 

“Uh, I just asked him like, “I can blow you but I can’t kiss you?” Then he looked at me kind of funny, and just said it was okay.” 

“Then what happened?”

“I asked him if he wanted to go upstairs, and then we went to my room.” 

Ian paused 

“Did he know it was your first time?” 

“Uh, yeah. He was really sweet about everything. I think that’s why it hurt so much when he told me had a boyfriend.” 

Ian paused again. 

“Tell me how that happened.” 

It was Casper who paused then. The memory of Mickey breaking up with him, was about to make the kid start crying again. Ian could sense the change in him, and he knew Casper was still hurting inside.

“It’s okay Casper. Just tell me how it happened…” 

“I-it was after the party was over. He just told me he couldn’t see me anymore and it…it broke my heart.” Casper’s voice lowered, as the tears welling inside made there way out, “And it’s crazy because, he like came to check on me earlier that night…and then outta nowhere he just pulls that shit.” 

Ian kind of understood why Mickey would’ve kissed this kid after he made him start crying. That shit was fucking heartbreaking to watch. He tried comforting Casper by rubbing his hand on the kid’s back, and as Ian watched more tears fall from his brown eyes, he had another sudden revelation. 

“You really liked him huh?” Ian asked, still massaging Casper’s back. 

The brunette could only nod his head “yes” in reply, and then Ian asked what he feared he already knew was true.

“You uh, you love him?” 

Casper waited a moment before he responded, and then looked Ian dead in his sparkling green eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He answered lowering his head down, his voice more broken than ever.

Ian felt so bad for this kid. Casper was in love with someone he knew he could never have, and Ian had felt that exact same way before. He knew how bad that shit hurt, and Ian wanted to go punch Mickey in his fucking face (again) for doing this to Casper. He could fuck somebody, sure, fine, whatever. But playing with an innocent kid’s emotions? 

That shit was _so fucked up_. 

“Don’t be sorry, really. I’m sorry you’re over here feeling like this man.” Ian said to Casper, who’s head was still tilted down, as the tears continued dropping. 

“Look at me.” Ian commanded him, “one day you’re gonna find somebody who like…takes your breath away. Somebody who’s honest with you, and who loves you back. Don’t worry about feeling stupid or played, or no shit like that. You’re gonna be just fine kid.” 

“H-how do you know?” Casper asked, wiping one side of his face clean. 

Ian placed the four fingers of his right hand on the back of Casper’s neck, and used his thumb to wipe the remaining tears from the opposite side of the kid’s face. 

“Because, you’re special. You got a good heart kid. And bad shit don’t happen to good people.” Ian answered smiling. 

The redhead’s freckled smile caused the corners of Casper’s own full lips to turn up. The brunette smiled big, showing both his dimples, and then let out a light chuckle. 

“See you’re feeling better already.” Ian said laughing too, his hand still on the back of Casper’s neck. “I bet something good comes from this, just wait and see.”

“You think so?” Casper asked hopeful, his voice not so low anymore. 

“I know so.” Ian said reassuring him once more, and staring him deep into his pretty brown eyes. 

Ian then used the hand that was holding Casper’s face to keep the boy’s still position fixed. The redhead closed his eyes and leaned in slow, until his warm lips were met with Casper’s. Ian kissed him soft and careful, and Casper didn’t hesitate kissing him back. Their mouths opened once as their heads tilted slightly, and then the shocking, sweet kiss was over almost as soon as it started.

“What was that for?” Casper asked surprised. 

“I don’t know,” Ian said smiling. “I just don’t want you to feel alone. I don’t want you feeling sad.” 

Ian had done so much for Casper, even before he kissed him. This talk was exactly what the kid needed, and him getting to taste Ian’s lips only made things better. 

“I’m feeling a lot better, thanks to you. I’m glad you came out here.”

“I am too.” Ian agreed, actually happy that he had. 

He was now ready to go talk to Mickey, (that lying little fucker was lucky his half-told story checked out). Ian felt confident that Casper would be fine by himself, and so it was time for him to go patch things up back South. 

“Alright, I should be getting back to work.” Ian said, getting up from the gold couch. 

“Okay, I’ll walk you to the door.” 

As they walked back through the large foyer, Ian couldn’t help but wonder how good Casper was in bed. How tight his ass was, and how the kid liked to get fucked. He was only a virgin plus one after all, and Ian wouldn’t’ve minded being his second go ‘round. The kid had a fucking nice ass, and he was a good kisser too. Maybe he could give even better head? 

Maybe Ian should try getting a piece of him? 

“Alright, I’ll see you ‘round kid.” Ian said walking through the door, and turning back around to smile. 

“You talking to Mickey later on today?” Casper asked. 

“Probably, why?” Ian asked, his smile fading. 

Casper paused.

“When you see him…will you tell him he’s an asshole for me?” He asked, sounding not so hurt anymore.

Ian’s smile returned to his face, and he laughed happily at Casper’s reasonable request. 

“Will do kid.” 

To Be Continued…


	22. I Have A Boyfriend, Do You Have A Boyfriend?

Where was Mickey? That was the question of the night. 

Where the _FUCK_ was Mickey?

After Ian returned to work, he waited anxiously to close the fucking Kash & Grab. Time was going by so slow, and he wanted to go see his Mickey. He _needed_ to go see Mickey. They hadn’t talked since the fight, and Ian was ready to work everything out, but by the time they were able to close the store and Ian made the short trip to Mickey’s doorstep, all his courage had turned to fear. He hadn’t heard from Mickey since breaking up with him, so he didn’t know what exactly to expect. But when Ian walked into their once shared room and couldn’t find Mickey, he got fucking annoyed. It was 11:15 p.m., so he couldn’t have been at work…

Where the fuck was Mickey? 

Ian headed towards Mandy’s room, hoping to find an answer.

“Where’s Mickey?” He asked, opening her door without knocking. 

“Shit Ian!” Lip exclaimed, opening his eyes.

“Jesus, knock much?” She joked, laughing and wiping her mouth.

Mandy was on the floor in front of Lip, who was sitting on the edge her bed, and she was giving him one of her world-famous hummers. Her bra was off, and his dick was hard, and they had a jar of…a jar of _peanut butter_? Wow, these two were kinkier than Ian thought. 

“Sorry, have you seen Mick?” Ian asked again, continuing the conversation like he hadn’t just interrupted Lip getting blown. 

“Yeah he’s uh, he’s in the hospital.” Mandy answered, throwing a blue t-shirt on to cover her bare chest. 

WHAT?! Mickey was in the _hospital_ , and these two were _here_? And were they seriously getting ready to _FUCK_?!

Ian was fucking pissed. 

“Is he okay?!” Ian asked, sounding more annoyed than before, “Why isn’t anyone up there?!”

“He’s fine Ian,” Mandy assured him, “but he can’t leave for two more days.” 

If he was fine, why couldn’t he leave? 

“If he’s fine, why can’t he leave?” Ian asked confused. 

Mandy was hesitant answering him, “He’s uh…he’s on uh…suci-“

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Lip interjected, “he don’t wanna see us, but I’m sure he’ll talk to you.” 

The truth; Mickey had asked Lip and Mandy to keep his whereabouts a secret from Ian. He had been in the hospital for a day now, and was hoping Ian wouldn’t come looking for him until after he was released from his 72-hour, “accident prevention” vigil. 

Mickey Milkovich would be in for a surprise. 

“What happened to him?” Ian asked, still curious as to why he couldn’t leave the hospital.

“Take his truck,” Mandy said, pointing to the ring of keys on her dresser, “and this is the room number.” 

Ian found it rather strange Mandy wouldn’t give him a straight answer, but he was still grateful for the help and information he’d been provided with. 

“Thanks.” Ian said, rushing out of the room. 

“Ian…” Mandy called after him.

“What?!” He asked turning around, irritated because he should’ve been out of the house by now. 

“…take it easy on him, he really is sorry.”

Once Ian arrived at the local hospital, he was seated and had to wait to visit Mickey. Since he was on suicide watch, the doctors and nurses had to regulate who it was that came to see Mickey Milkovich, and how long each one of his visitors could stay. They first informed Mickey who it was here to see him, and after he agreed to allow Ian in, the _gracious_ hospital staff gave the boys a whole ten minutes to themselves. 

Awww, they shouldn’t have.

As Ian walked through the doorway of Mickey’s hospital room, he couldn’t help but notice how different it was from all the other rooms he’d seen before, and it only made him worry more. This particular room was so… _plain_. All items that could potentially be used to harm yourself had been removed, leaving virtually nothing in this room but a chair, Mickey, and a bed that didn’t even have a privacy curtain. Mickey was laying up in the bed, looking his typical self (with the exception of his blackened right eye), and so Ian’s worry seized at the first sight of his ex-boyfriend.

“Hey Mick.” He said softly. 

“Hey.” He responded back smiling, happy to see Ian. 

“How you feelin’?” 

“Shit I’m fine. They need to let me out of this fucking place!” Mickey answered, raising his voice louder, wanting the staff to hear him. 

Mickey Milkovich had been ~~begging~~ threatening the nurses to release him since yesterday, but his attempts had usually just ended in him being strapped down and freshly medicated. 

“What happened to you?” Ian asked, sounding more concerned than confused. 

Mickey paused.

“I shouldn’t’ve mixed those pills with that fucking gin. Doc called it _an accidental overdose_ or some shit.” Mickey replied, trying to make it sound as not-a-big-deal as possible. 

“Why didn’t you have Lip or Mandy call me when it first happened?” 

Mickey paused a second time. 

“I-I don’t know man, I was-“

“What the fuck were you thinking Mickey?” Ian asked cutting him off, his voice now full of anger. 

“It was an accident!” Mickey insisted defensively, “I don’t know, I just-” 

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again Mickey, you hear me?!” Ian commanded, still yelling. 

A member of the nursing staff opened Mickey’s door then, curious as to the commotion going on within the room of such a “fragile” patient. 

“Everything okay here?” The blonde woman asked, glaring in Ian’s direction. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Mickey assured her, still looking at Ian. 

The woman looked at both boys again, wondering what their exact relationship was, and then closed the door back slowly behind her.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” Ian repeated more quiet this time, and then sat on the only chair in the room. 

“Galla-“

“No Mick seriously. What, you were just gonna leave me alone like that?” 

Huh? Who had left _who_ again?

“You broke up with me.” Mickey stated, sounding a bit confused. 

“So what!” Ian said, shouting again, “I was pissed off and fucking drunk, you know I couldn’t stay mad at you!” 

Mickey actually _didn’t_ know that. He and Ian had never been official (and therefore had never broken up), so Mickey was confused (and scared) of the entire situation. Shit, he didn’t know what the fuck came after a break-up.  
  
A moment passed and Mickey finally spoke, “I really thought I fucked it up.”

“So you were just gonna give up and leave? Fucking leave me forever?” 

When Ian worded it that way, it made Mickey understand why he wasn’t being as sympathetic as Lip and Mandy had been. Mickey never thought about the fact that it would be Ian left alone, constantly reminded of the love he’d lost. Constantly reminded of the selfish way it happened. 

That was, if Ian still loved him. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Mickey stuttered out. 

“You just don’t get it Mick, I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you…I-I can’t imagine my life without you. And if you don’t know that, maybe I’m the one that needs to be sorry.” 

Mickey began chewing at the corner of his bottom lip, and his brow furrowed as he listened to Ian’s sweet confession. 

“Y-you still love me?” Mickey asked, his voice cracking slightly. 

Was he seriously asking Ian that question?

“Mickey, I’ve loved you since I was fifteen years old, and I probably always will. The day I fucking die, I’ll still be in love with Mickey Milkovich. Don’t you fucking know that?” 

Mickey did fucking know that. He’d felt the love coming from Ian, even before he knew what it was. Mickey had been scared for so long because of Ian, because of Ian’s _love_. But he wasn’t scared anymore. 

Mickey never had to be scared again. 

“I do know that,” he answered teary-eyed, “and I love you too.” 

“I know you do Mick, we just gotta get shit back right.” 

“I know man. I’m sorry about all the shit that went down with Casper…I should’ve just stayed away from him.” 

Ian had initially intended on talking to Mickey once more about _everything_ that happened, to see if he could get the whole truth this time. But after seeing Mickey all bruised and black-eyed because of the beating he gave him (and in this creepy ass hospital room on the verge of fucking suicide), Ian decided not to. He decided it was over. Ian knew enough to know that Mickey wasn’t gonna be cheating anytime soon, and he knew Casper wouldn’t overstep and try anything funny again, so he had no problem forgiving Mickey. 

But he damn sure wasn’t gonna forget the shit. 

Ian Gallagher would never forget the night he saw Mickey Milkovich _kissing_ Casper Duncan. 

“Yeah, you’re an asshole.” Ian said in a serious tone. 

Mickey’s eyes widened, making his face look sadder, “That’s not making me feel any better Gallagher.” 

Ian cracked a smile that showed his top row of teeth, and then began laughing like Mickey had said something funny. 

“Casper wanted me to let you know.” 

Mickey paused.

“You uh, you talked to him?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting to piss Ian off. 

The redhead answered as if he couldn’t sense the hesitation in Mickey’s voice, “Yeah, I drove down there earlier today.”

Ian knew Mickey had probably been worrying about the kid. Only a complete asshole wouldn’t be concerned if he did what Mickey had done to Casper, and Ian knew Mickey wasn’t a _complete_ asshole. He was probably wondering if Casper was okay, or would be alright, or some shit like that. It had probably been killing Mickey to know. 

“H-he seem okay?” Mickey asked, still trying not to set Ian off. 

See, Ian knew he was wondering some shit like that. Why even get mad?

“He was kind of sad at first, fucking depressed really. We had a real good talk though, and I think he’ll be just fine.” 

Mickey paused again, and then looked back over at his ex. 

“I’m so sorry again Ian.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that Mick, just from now on we tell each other everything, alright?” 

Mickey got up out of his hospital bed and was completely naked. He walked over to where Ian was sitting, grabbed the redhead by both his hands, and stood him to his feet.

“Everything.” Mickey agreed, looking Ian in his bright green eyes and then planting a kiss on the boy’s soft lips.

“Why don’t you have any clothes on?” Ian asked, breaking the kiss and laughing.

“Fucking nurse’s scared I’ll hang myself with that _open-ass thing_ they make you wear. That, or I’ll swallow it or some shit.” 

Ian burst into laughter, his mind filling with images of Mickey dressed in a powder blue hospital gown. 

“Fuck you Gallagher, I gotta do this shit again tomorrow!” 

“No more poppin’ pills then, huh?” 

Mickey just grabbed Ian by the back of his head in response, gripping a handful of red hair and pulling him back close so their lips could meet again. Mickey was kissing Ian slow and passionate (the way Casper liked to be kissed) but this time, wasn’t thinking about the brown-haired kid. Mickey had his Ian back, and that was all he needed. 

Ian was _who_ Mickey needed.

The redhead grabbed hold of Mickey’s face with both his big hands, and then used his left to guide Mickey’s mouth to his throat. As Mickey began circling his tongue on the surface of Ian’s neck, he couldn’t help but smile when he ran across the golden gift he’d given him, tucked away behind Ian’s black t-shirt. 

“You kept your chain?” Mickey asked smiling, “Even after we broke up?” 

“I told you I couldn’t stay mad, and this is my favorite thing in the world!” Ian answered, grabbing Mickey by the waist and slapping his naked ass, “and this.” 

Ugh, it had been too long since Ian had last been inside of Mickey, and it was time to fucking fix that.

Mickey licked his bottom lip and began unbutton the readhead’s jeans, while at the same time, Ian was grabbing hold of Mickey’s already hard cock, not needing to undress the shorter boy. They were kissing in their usual way, wild and unpredictable, their tongues massaging one another’s. That was, until Ian grabbed hold of Mickey’s face and slowed their kiss back down. As Ian lightly pressed his lips against Mickey’s, he used his thumb to massage the bruised area around Mickey’s black eye. An area _he’d_ created.

“Sfff.” Mickey moaned in pain, biting his bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry Mick.” Ian whispered into his ear, “I’m sorry for everything.” 

Ian had started feeling guilty the moment he saw Mickey all bruised up. It was sexy on occasions, but not when the upper right side of Mickey’s face was still temporarily black and blue. And not when he knew it was him who had done it. Ian never wanted to lay hands on Mickey again.

Well, not in _that_ way. 

“It’s cool Gallagher, I just know what not to do next time you try and kill me.” Mickey joked. 

“You do huh?” Ian asked, biting his bottom lip the same way Mickey would bite his. 

Mickey smiled wide at his ex-boyfriend mimicking him, but his grin quickly faded as he remembered one essential thing; Ian was still just his **ex** -boyfriend.

“What is it?” Ian asked, sensing the sudden change in him. 

“Are we…together?” Mickey asked, sounding genuinely confused, “You kind of broke up with me so…”

Ian paused, and then smiled at his dazed lover. 

“I have a boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?” 

Mickey’s wide smile returned to his face, as he received the answer he needed to hear, and finally got Gallagher’s fucking jeans undone. 

“I’m pretty sure I do.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ian asked, also smiling and placing his hand on the back of Mickey’s head, “Would he mind if you sucked my dick?” 

Mickey laughed out loud at Ian being so forward. It was kind of hot, but mostly just surprising because Gallagher only talked like that when he was drunk. Had Ian been drinking? Maybe he just missed Mickey? 

Maybe as much as Mickey had missed him? 

“Nah, I don’t think he’d give a shit.” Mickey answered, reaching into Ian’s blue boxers and pulling out his cock and balls. 

Ian’s dick was still growing, but wasn’t all the way hard, as Mickey played with it in his hands. He loved Ian’s cock at this state, flopping that long ass thing around and just watching it hang between his legs. The difference one inch of penis caused to a guy’s entire unit was crazy, and Ian was definitely a testament to that. Mickey had also missed the tiny freckles on his dick. You know, like the ones that matched the freckles on Ian’s face and back? The ones Mickey would stay up and caress all night, as he watched his redheaded boyfriend sleep peacefully. Mickey was never gonna fuck this up again, never gonna lose his Ian again. And he _definitely_ wasn’t gonna fuck up the chance to suck on Ian’s dick.

He’d _NEVER_ do that again. 

As Mickey started kissing his way down to Ian’s hanging cock and undrained balls, his hospital room door opened once again. 

Fucking perfect.

“Oh!” The blonde nurse exclaimed, backing out of the room, “Sorry but visiting hours are over. I’ll give you boys a minute to get decent.” 

“‘Preciate it!” Mickey yelled, sounding annoyed. 

It wasn’t the fact that she’d caught them together, Mickey really gave no fuck. But he _was_ pissed at the fact the stupid bitch couldn’t wait another five fucking minutes.

Jesus, what’s a Milkovich gotta do to get some fucking dick around here? 

“Fucking cunts, see what I gotta deal with in this shithole?” 

Ian smiled, and slapped Mickey on his ass a second time, “You’ll be alright Milkovich.” 

“Shit I guess, I wanted to fuck though.” Mickey said, sounding spoiled and reaching for Ian’s cock again. 

“No Mick, it’ll be better if we wait.”

“Shut up.” Mickey instructed him, stepping closer and kissing Ian’s neck. 

“Stop Mickey. I don’t wanna start and not get to finish.”

When Mickey saw Ian wasn’t gonna budge, he rolled his eyes and made his way back into his hospital bed, his dick still fully erect. 

“I’m sorry Mick.” Ian apologized, smiling and putting his half-hard cock away. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Gallagher. You just fucking be ready when I get out day after tomorrow.” 

Ian finished readjusting his clothes, and then walked over to where Mickey was sitting up in the bed. He leaned down and tried kissing Mickey’s lips goodbye, but the older boy turned his head slightly, still acting spoiled. 

“You really gonna be like that Mick?” Ian asked smiling, his head still bent down. 

Mickey turned his head back so his blue eyes were looking right into Ian’s beautiful green ones. He stared at his younger boyfriend for a long moment, before he couldn’t help but smile his full smile. The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes a second time, and then finally kissed Ian’s patiently waiting lips. Ian then began taking his clothes back off, and cuddled next to Mickey underneath the white hospital sheets. 

“What are you doing?” Mickey asked confused, as Ian grabbed hold of his bruised waist. 

“If you gotta stay here until tomorrow, then I’m staying too.” 

“Gallagher, I don’t think-“

“I’m fucking staying Mickey.” Ian said sternly, looking his boyfriend dead in his eyes. 

All Mickey could do was smile. He loved when Ian got forceful, and honestly, there was no place in the world Mickey would rather have Ian be, than right by his side. 

By his side **_forever_**. 

“I love you Ian.” Mickey said, reaching out and tugging at his red hair. 

Ian echoed his boyfriend’s movement, extending his arm out and playing with his longer, darker strands. 

“I love you too Mickey.”

To Be Continued…


	23. I'm Not Even Close.

The morning Mickey was released out of the hospital, he received a call from his boss, who needed him to immediately return to work. She had called him not really giving a fuck about any injury Mickey had, because she was super stressed about the job they’d be working today. Raw sewage had backed up out of all the women’s toilets in a downtown bathroom, and she needed all the helping hands she could get. The shit was fucking disgusting, literally one of the worst jobs Mickey had ever been on. It took all fucking day, and he was sore as shit when they finished, but whatever, his boss did have an extra $120 for him coming in sick. 

After he was done and drove home, Mickey walked into his room and could hear his loud shower water running. His redheaded boyfriend then appeared at the doorway of their connecting bathroom, with nothing but his chain, and a pair black boxer shorts on. His red hair was visibly shades darker because of it’s wetness, and there was still clear drops of water on his back and shoulders. 

"The shower’s adjusted." Ian said smirking, “Hurry up." 

"Galla-"

"Just hurry the fuck up." Ian demanded, cutting Mickey off and grabbing a handful of his ass. 

"Yes sir!" Mickey said, smiling and taking his shirt off. 

The older boy knew exactly what kind of a mood his boyfriend was in, and Mickey loved when Ian got like this. Bossing him around and shit, grabbing his ass so rough. How could he not obey Ian’s orders? 

Mickey hurried as fast as he could, but I mean let’s be honest; he had to take a _proper shower._ Once he was finished and squeaky clean though, Mickey walked back into his room to find his boyfriend in their bed, jerking the fuck out of his rock-hard cock. Ian’s dick was all the way hard (like all the way hard and pointing directly up towards the ceiling), and that only happened when he was really, _really_ horny. 

"Fuck Gallagher, you gettin’ started without me?" 

"Get over here." Ian said, motioning with his neck as he continued to jack off.

Mickey used the towel in his hand to dry the dripping water from his hair, and then again did as he was told. The older boy climbed his way up Ian’s muscular body in one swift motion, quickly moving from the foot of their bed to the redhead’s soft lips. Mickey placed his balled fists next to Ian’s sides, using his strong arms to support his full weight, while he kissed his boyfriend. As Mickey forced his tongue into Ian’s open mouth, he could feel the redhead’s boner sticking him right in his abs. 

Fuck, had Ian’s eight inches grown another half-inch? Was the shit even possible? 

"Why’s you’re shit so hard Gallagher?" Mickey asked, breaking their kiss, but biting Ian’s bottom lip before he could answer. 

"I fucking missed you Mick, it was bullshit you having to go in." 

"Whatever, I’m here now." Mickey replied, smiling and taking hold of Ian’s hard dick with his left hand. 

He still didn’t understand why Ian was so hard already, but hey, less work for Mickey. The older boy spit directly onto Ian’s pulsing cock to lubricate it, and then used both his hands to thoroughly spread his saliva. Ian leaned back against the soft pillow located on his side of the bed, and then watched closely as his boyfriend took him deep into his throat with the first stroke of his head. Mickey’s slick tongue ran down the backside of Ian’s cock until it reached the start of the boy’s ball sac, leaving none of his dick left to swallow. Mickey then allowed Ian’s cock to remain deep in his mouth as he began moving his head in the slightest up-and-down motion, massaging the entirety of Ian’s cock with his throat muscles. 

"Sfff, fuck Mickey." Ian moaned out, biting his bottom lip and placing his right hand on the back of Mickey’s head. 

The redhead lightly pulled at Mickey’s wet hair, signaling him to stop deepthroating, and start moving from tip to base. As Mickey changed the way he was sucking and stroking Ian off, his own hard cock beneath him was growing harder and more uncomfortable to lie on. Distracted by his dick’s discomfort, Mickey lifted up slightly and used his right hand to adjust the growing boner beneath him, pushing it back between his legs, and lying flat to ease the pain. Ian then got up from his upright position to get behind his boyfriend. The blowjob he was getting felt good and all, but he’d rather be eating Mickey’s ass. 

There was _nothing_ sweeter in this world than tonguing Mickey Milkovich’s asshole. 

"Fuck Mickey." Ian repeated, but in a more amazed tone. 

The view of Mickey’s muscular legs laying lazily like that, with his toned ass slightly arched in the air, and his thick cock and huge balls poking out the back, was like the hottest shit Ian had ever seen. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what Mickey looked like naked (or even in this position), it just seemed like forever since they’d last been in their room. 

Been in their room _together_.

Ian used his wet tongue to lick from the tip of Mickey’s dick to his hairy asshole. Running his tongue up the backside of Mickey’s cock and ball sac, passing (but not ignoring) his hairy taint, and licking all the places in between, before finally reaching his warm, tight entrance. 

"Ahhh." Mickey moaned at the initial contact, his body jerking as a tingling sensation surged its way beneath his pale white skin.

The redhead knew how sensitive the tip of his boyfriend’s penis was, and so Ian slowly made his way back down, until his tongue was again circling the glands of Mickey’s pre-cum dripping cock. 

"Ahhh…ahhh…shit!" Mickey moaned more violently, his entire body twitching in titillation. 

Ian used his left hand to pin Mickey’s moving body still, and then took three inches of the dark-haired boy’s cock into his mouth, sucking Mickey slow and playing with his big balls. The redhead then moved back up to where he’d originally planned to be going, Mickey’s hairy, pink hole. Ian didn’t bother using his hands to spread Mickey’s ass cheeks. Instead, he dived in face-first, using the tip of his tongue to lick the rim of Mickey’s asshole in an up-and-down motion, his left hand jacking Mickey off, and Ian’s right still holding his boyfriend still. The younger boy kept the older pinned down, forcing Mickey to enjoy what he was doing to him wether he liked it or not. Ian’s nose was buried deep in the crack of Mickey’s ass and his dick seemed to still be growing harder. 

It would be awhile before Ian Gallagher was gonna cum. 

The redhead then began kissing his way from Mickey’s hole, lightly pressing his lips against the outside of Mickey’s ass, and slowly kissing his way up the length of Mickey’s back. Each kiss Ian planted on the surface of the dark-haired boy’s skin sent chills through him, raising the microscopic hairs on his epidermis and covering him with hundreds of tiny goosebumps. Once Ian’s lips reached the back of Mickey’s neck, he ran his tongue along the side and up, until Mickey’s earlobe was in his mouth being sucked on. Mickey then pivoted his head to the right, letting Ian know he wanted to lock lips with him. 

Lock lips with his _boyfriend_.

As the two kissed one another, their mouths opened repeatedly, each of them gasping for quick breaths as their lips would part and then meet again. Mickey bit down on Ian’s bottom lip, pulling the redhead closer to him, who responded by pressing his lips against Mickey’s hard, and then sucking on his bottom lip even harder. Mickey turned his body over beneath Ian, grabbing a handful of red hair and pulling the younger boy down closer to him. He pressed his lips against Ian’s slower now, softer now, his racing heart returning to a normal beat per minute. The redhead immediately followed Mickey’s lead, kissing his boyfriend back just as slow and passionate as he was being kissed. 

There was something different about Ian tonight. Or maybe it was Mickey? Either way, the sex was about to be **phenomenal**. 

That much they both knew.

"I fucking want you in me." Mickey informed his boyfriend. 

Ian dived his head towards Mickey’s throat, sucking on his neck in response to his voiced wish. 

"Mmmm fuck." Mickey moaned as he tried talking again, “You hear me? I want you to fuck me. Fuck me now Gallagher!" 

When Mickey begged like that, what else could he do but oblige?

Ian lifted his right hand to his mouth, transferring a small amount of saliva into his palm and reaching down between his legs to lubricate himself with it. Mickey’s asshole was still pretty slick from the rim job Ian had given him, but the redhead put a little more spit there too, just in case. Ian then placed his big hands on the undersides of both Mickey’s legs, pushing him back slightly to lift his asshole higher into the air. 

And with one swift motion, Ian was back home, deep inside of Mickey, feeling his boyfriend’s familiar tightness and warmth. 

"Sfff ahhh." Mickey moaned softly, his lip snarling and his eyes closing. 

It felt so good to have Ian back within him, to have his boyfriend back a temporary part of him. 

Ian placed his right hand on Mickey’s lower back and pulled the older boy down, so his body was laid flat on the bed top. Ian then bent down closer to Mickey, placing his head next to his boyfriend’s and using his knees to support his body. As Ian began circling his hips slowly and kissing Mickey’s neck, the older boy responded by locking his short legs around Ian’s waist and yanking handfuls of his soft, red hair. 

"Ahhh…ahhh," Ian breathed heavily into Mickey’s ear, “you feel so good Mick." 

Mickey pulled Ian’s hair harder and in an upward direction, lifting his head so he could kiss his boyfriend’s soft lips again. 

"I love you so much Ian." Mickey moaned out, looking the younger boy in his bright green eyes. 

Ian’s brow furrowed but his eyebrows lifted, so his face looked both surprised and sad. 

"I love you too Mickey. I love you so fucking much." 

Whenever the “L" word got tossed around during sex, it always amped things up. But Mickey and Ian were already so hot for each other that tonight, their love was really gonna kick things up a notch. 

Mickey used the strength of his arms, chest, and legs to turn Ian flat onto his back, while making sure his boyfriend’s long dick remained securely inside of him. Mickey was on his knees, slowly riding back-and-forth, and looking Ian in his green eyes with a smile on his face. His dick was still rock-hard, and as Mickey jacked himself off and synchronously rode Ian’s cock, he started slapping his boner against the surface of Ian’s hard abs, right below his muscular chest. 

"Ow Mick." Ian said laughing. 

Mickey’s dick was fucking heavy, and getting hit in the same spot repeatedly with that thing didn’t feel too good. That thick cock was a weapon, a fucking weapon of mass destruction. 

"Shut the fuck up." Mickey instructed, biting his bottom lip and slapping his dick against Ian harder. 

"Fuck, that shit hurts Mick." 

"Shut up Gallagher, it feels fucking good." 

Mickey didn’t wanna listen? Fine, the younger boy could take matters into his own hands. 

Or into his _mouth_ at least. 

Ian maneuvered his body from laying flat in the middle of the bed, to sitting slightly up in an arched position against the pillows. He then bent his knees and tucked his waist in, bringing Mickey’s hard cock within a reachable distant of his face. As Ian created suction around Mickey’s dick with his lips, he used his hips to guide Mickey’s cock in-and-out of his mouth, and at the same time, Mickey’s ass up-and-down his long dick. 

"Mmmm, f-fuck Gallagher." Mickey moaned deeply, grabbing the back of Ian’s head and giving him a helping hand. 

The dual sensation of his sensitive dick-head being sucked, and his hairy asshole being penetrated, was driving Mickey insane. He was in ecstasy, fucking ecstasy, and he could’ve blown his load any second. He tried fighting it the best he could, but the more he thought about not cumming, the more it seemed he was gonna pop. 

Oh shit, oh fuck, he was gonna fucking pop!

Ian could feel the hand on the back of his head shaking, and he also felt Mickey’s thick cock in his mouth throbbing a little harder than usual. The last time he had this idea in his head (and doubted it), his face ended up covered in cum, and he wasn’t taking any chances this time. 

Ian had _definitely_ learned that fucking lesson. 

"You ‘bout to cum?" He asked looking up. 

The way Mickey bit his lip, and had to immediately start rubbing his dick after Ian took it out of his mouth, was all the answer the younger boy needed. 

"No, not yet Mick," Ian pleaded, as he began to fuck faster, “I’m not even close." 

Mickey started breathing deeper, but Ian was still no closer to his climax, so he did the only thing he could think of to stop Mickey from reaching his. The redhead leaned his torso all the way up, focused his aim directly at Mickey’s toned chest, and then fired his mouth (teeth-first) at the older boy’s right nipple, clamping down hard on his ticklish teat and throwing Mickey off of his hard, freckled cock. 

"SFFF FUCKKK GALLAGHER!!!" Mickey cried out in fetus position, as both his hands tried desperately to soothe his aching chest. 

"Sorry Mick." Ian said with a smirk, sounding unapologetic and getting up to stand at the edge of their bed. 

"FUCK YOU GALLAGHER! WHAT THE FUCK?!" 

"At least you’re not gonna cum now." Ian said, still smirking. 

Mickey’s right nipple was throbbing twice as hard as his fat cock had been, and his warm asshole was now fucking empty. 

How the Hell could _anybody_ cum like that? 

"THIS SHIT’S FUCKING FUNNY TO YOU?!" Mickey asked, his once hard cock now draining itself of all the warm blood inside. 

Ian pulled Mickey across the bed by his ankles so he was close to him again, and lying flat on his back, “Not at all, I just needed you to wait for me." 

Mickey paused and then smiled.

"You’re a fucking asshole Gallagher," he said, in a normal tone. “You could’ve just asked nicely." 

Hmmm? That hadn’t occurred to Ian at the time. 

"That didn’t occur to me at the time," He replied, smiling back. “I’ll remember next time." 

"Yeah, you fucking better." Mickey warned his boyfriend, and then tried sitting up on his bed. 

Instead of allowing Mickey up, Ian threw him back down flat on the bed, and then went to Mickey’s nightstand to retrieve one of the many tube-shaped bottles of lubricant they owned. Ian then flipped Mickey over onto all fours, and slicked the dark-haired boy’s hole for the abuse it was about to receive. The redhead also added lube to his eight (plus) inches, and then re-entered Mickey without any hesitation. 

"Fuck Mick." Ian moaned lazily. His boyfriend’s ass just felt so… _good_.

Ian immediately began fucking Mickey hard and deep, grabbing hold of his waist for support and pounding into him the way he knew Mickey loved. The force of Ian’s strokes swayed Mickey’s soft cock and balls in all directions, causing his flaccid wood to harden all over again. Ian then moved his right hand onto Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him back closer with every thrust and lowering his torso closer to the mattress. 

"Mmmm…mmmm…fuck Ian." Mickey moaned softly. 

He was getting fucked hard as shit, but Mickey loved Ian’s long dick roughly plunging into him, and coming almost all the way back out. 

Fucking **_LOVED_** it. 

Ian then pulled Mickey closer to the edge of the bed, and used his big hands to spread the boy’s ass cheeks open. With no muscle or fatty tissue blocking his stroke, Ian was able to go balls-deep inside of Mickey, offering all of himself within his older boyfriend with every thrust of his long cock. Mickey then began jerking himself off underneath his arched body, while Ian continued falling as far deep into him as humanly possible. 

"I love you Mickey." Ian moaned through a clenched jaw, bending over to kiss his boyfriend’s neck. 

Mickey responded by turning his head sideways and locking his larger lips with his redheaded beau’s. They were kissing pretty sensually, until Ian forced his tongue into Mickey’s mouth and then began biting on his bottom lip. The younger boy then pushed Mickey back down onto the bed, and started pounding into him again, just as relentless as before. Grabbing a handful of Mickey’s dark hair and yanking it a little too hard, Ian held his boyfriend’s head back while still continuing to drill his dripping hole. 

"I’m gonna fucking cum Gallagher, I can’t hold it this time." 

"Fucking cum for me Mick, I want you to." Ian said, forcing his index finger into Mickey’s mouth. 

As Mickey sucked on Ian’s finger like it was the dick between the redhead’s legs, he still had a strong hold of his own hard cock, and with a few more strokes of his right hand, Mickey could feel the eminent eruption coming from his ball sac. The dark-haired boy began breathing deep through his nose, and as the stroke of his hand quickened and his suction on Ian’s finger tightened, Mickey came. 

He finally fucking _came._

"Mmmmmmmm, mmmm, mmmm…" Mickey whimpered, still sucking on the long finger in his mouth. 

As streams of cum shot out of him and all over the white bed sheets, Mickey’s hairy asshole pulsated around Ian’s lengthy cock, giving the redhead the final push he needed into Orgasmland. 

"Ahhh, ahhh, f-f-fuckkkk." Ian moaned, as he unloaded within Mickey’s inner kingdom. 

"Sfff, shit Gallagher." Mickey breathed heavily, as he felt Ian’s hot cum shoot into his asshole. 

Mickey leaned back and turned his head for another kiss, leaving Ian’s cock still inside of him while the redhead finished cumming. As Ian removed his still hard dick from his boyfriend’s ass, Mickey turned around so he could kiss a still standing Ian, face-to-face. The older boy maneuvered both his arms under Ian’s armpits and up his back, wrapping both his tattooed hands on Ian’s freckled shoulders. The ginger responded by locking his bigger hands around Mickey’s still slightly bruised waist, and playfully placing kisses on his boyfriend’s mouth. 

Ian was pressing his lips against Mickey’s briefly, and then stopping the kiss before two full seconds passed. Mickey’s eyes were closed, but he could feel and hear Ian smiling every time their lips would part and reconnect. Ian’s light smile only made Mickey smile, and as they stopped pecking each other’s lips to rest their foreheads against one another’s, Mickey could feel Ian’s load running out of his asshole and down the back of his leg.

"C’mon, how ‘bout we take a shower and then go for round two?" Mickey suggested, keeping his face close to Ian’s. 

The redhead just smiled at his boyfriend, and then began lightly sucking on Mickey’s bottom lip. 

After their shower was finished, the boys had a couple beers and smoked like two joints. They’d attempted to watch some movie Iggy had told them about, but ended up back in their room before the second spliff had even finished burning. Mickey had started off bottoming in their sophomore round, but by the time Ian was ready to cum again, he’d wanted a dick in him. 

He’d wanted _Mickey’s_ dick in him. 

The second round of cumshots came harder and more delayed for each of them, and so neither Mickey nor Ian felt like showering a third time tonight. Whatever, the towel they used to wipe the cum up with had cleaned them well enough, and it was already four o’clock in the fucking morning. 

It was time for bed. 

As the two boys made their way beneath the covers, Ian tried spooning his body against the outer side of Mickey’s, so they could sleep in their normal position. But once Ian inched closer, Mickey rolled over and positioned him flat on his back, nestling his head into Ian’s chest and laying his right leg across his boyfriend’s lower body. Mickey used his right hand to trace random shapes on the surface of Ian’s big chest, feeling the texture of the redhead’s soft skin and the tiny hairs growing in the middle of his toned pecs. Ian then lifted his left hand behind his head, used his right to grab hold of Mickey’s tender side, and in that moment, slowly drifted to sleep. 

Mickey could feel Ian’s grip on his side weaken, and he heard the boy’s nose expelling a light whistling noise with every breath that passed. Ian was asleep, sound a-fucking-sleep, and he looked so cute from this angle (and every other angle) Mickey had of him. 

"Gallagher?" He asked, making sure Ian was really out. 

When his boyfriend didn’t respond, Mickey smiled maliciously to himself because he knew his plan had worked. The dark-haired boy had repositioned Ian’s body for a specific purpose, and after taking a moment to be sure that this is what he wanted to do, Mickey ran his finger around the circumference of Ian’s left nipple, and then bit down on it. 

_HARD._

"AHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKK!!!" Ian screamed, popping up out of his sleep, not knowing what the fuck had happened. 

"Guess that’ll teach you some fucking manners, huh Gallagher?" Mickey asked smiling. 

It took Ian a second to realize what Mickey had done, but once he’d figured it out, could he really be mad? 

"Fucking asshole." Ian said, rubbing his chest and trying not to crack a smile. 

"Yeah, I love you too." Mickey answered sarcastically. 

The two boys looked at each other and smiled. One of them had a sore nipple, and the other a fading black eye, but they still couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to be back home, and back with the one they loved, that smiling was the only thing possible. 

Their _love_ was the only thing possible.

Ian ran his fingers through Mickey’s hair, and then placed his hand of the back of his neck, “I missed you so much Mick." 

"I missed you too." Mickey replied, taking hold of Ian’s face and kissing his lips. 

The boys made-out one last time, but stopped kissing each other before they’d be working on round three. They then cuddled back beneath the warm comforter (but in their usual position this time; Ian on the outside cradling Mickey in his arms), and closed their eyes to peacefully slip away. 

The redhead had almost fallen back asleep, but couldn’t because he was terrified of what might happen to his other nipple if he did. 

"Hey Mick." Ian whispered in his ear.

"Huh?" Mickey asked, turning his head slightly. 

"If I promise never to bite your nipple that hard, will you promise never to bite mine?" 

Mickey laughed out loud to himself. He _had_ bitten his boyfriend hard as fuck, and could only imagine how bad his chest was still feeling. The older boy composed his laughter though, and then answered Ian’s question with a full smile on his face.

"That’s a deal Firecrotch." 

To Be Continued…


	24. I'm So Fucking Stupid!

10:48 p.m.

Ian, Mickey, Lip, and Mandy were all in the living room sitting on the floor. It was Sunday night, the last day of Spring Break, and school was starting back tomorrow. Lip had, had this brilliant idea to move the coffee table and have everyone sit in a circle. They were going to spend the remainder of the evening getting really drunk and high, and telling funny stories about the shit they’d done, that the others didn’t know anything about. It sounded pretty lame at first, but nobody had to work and there wasn’t shit on T.V., so storytime with Lip seemed okay, but only because they were getting fucked up. 

"Like two summers ago, at Debs’ fake birthday-sleepover party." Lip answered, taking the joint from Ian. 

"No shit?" He asked, laughing and coughing out smoke. “I didn’t even hear y’all." 

Lip and Mandy smiled at each other, that had sort of been the idea. 

"You weren’t suppose to." Mandy informed him, the smile still present on her face. 

"That’s pretty messed up, don’t you think?" Ian asked sarcastically, sounding like he was really hurt. 

"Oh whatever!" Mandy laughed, rolling her eyes. “When did you two first hook-up, huh? ‘Cuz I definitely didn’t hear shit about that!" 

Mickey quickly jumped into their conversation, interrupting before Ian could even respond. 

"Fuck off Mandy, he’s not telling that story." 

"What? Is Mickey Milkovich getting _shy?_ " Lip teased, smirking at him. 

Though he was certain the story would end with gay sex starring his little brother, Lip too was intrigued at the tale of the boy’s first bedding. He had never heard _exactly_ how Ian first started seeing Mickey, and he knew that shit just had to be a funny story.

"No I’m not shy," Mickey said, mirroring Lip’s stupid face back at him, “it’s just none of your fucking business." 

"Awww c’mon Mick, it’s a good story." Ian said, taking hold of his boyfriend’s hand. 

Mickey snatched away from Ian to pour himself a shot, while the three stared at him patiently waiting for a reply. 

"Fuck it, go ahead…tell ‘em Gallagher."

Ian paused to try figuring out the best way to start, but before beginning his story, couldn’t help but crack the biggest and brightest smile the three of them had ever seen. Shit, that’s all Ian could ever do when he recalled the first time he fucked Mickey Milkovich. 

_His_ Mickey Milkovich.

"Well, it all started when Mick stole Kash’s gun…"

October 27, 2010, 4:42 p.m.

Ian was pisssed. 

FUCKING PISSED!

Mickey _Punk-Ass_ Milkovich had not only been fucking with Kash again, but he’d also stolen the new gun Linda had bought for protection of the store! What a fucking asshole, seriously! Kash was always so nice to everyone, including Mickey! Why couldn’t he just **BACK THE FUCK OFF?!**

It didn’t matter though, Mickey was gonna fucking learn today. 

Ian’s mind had been so clouded by anger that he didn’t realize he was unarmed until he was standing on the Milkovich porch, peering into the dark house through a slightly-cracked front door. The bat would’ve been fucking perfect, but he’d just left work and didn’t think to grab it on the way over here. A quick search of the messy porch would reveal a rusted tire iron though, and with a weapon finally in hand, Ian made his way nervously to Mickey’s room, not even noticing a sleeping Terry Milkovich on the couch. 

‘Fucking piece-of-shit.’ Ian thought to himself, as his green eyes were met with Mickey’s sleeping body. 

He looked so stupid just laying there, sprawled out like a fucking kid or something. Mickey thought he was so tough, so fucking badass, but Ian could’ve beat the shit out of him right now if he wanted to, and _fuck_ did he want to. It would’ve been a pussy move though (sneaking up on Mickey while he was asleep), so Ian just stuck with his original plan; get the gun and go. 

After he pressed the curved end of the crowbar into Mickey’s upper back, Ian’s stomach sank. He realized he’d acquired a weapon for a reason, that the psycho he was waking up would have no real problem ripping his fucking head off. It was too late to think about that though, or to even back down.

Mickey Milkovich was **wide** awake. 

"The fuck?!" He inquired, rubbing his blue eyes to soothe the pain his room’s bright light was inflicting.

"I want the gun back Mickey." Ian demanded, motioning the tire iron so the older boy knew he meant business. 

"Gallagher?"

Wait a fucking minute, this shit couldn’t’ve been happening. There was no way, no fucking way Ian _Firecrotch_ Gallagher was the one waking Mickey up right now. NO FUCKING WAY! Did this kid have a death wish or some shit, and was he really here asking for Towelhead’s gun back? Didn’t he know that was Mickey’s property now? This shit was fucking crazy. 

_Ian_ was fucking crazy. 

"The gun." He repeated, in a more demanding tone. 

Fucking Gallagher had balls huh? Yeah, we’ll see…

"Alright." Mickey said, making sure to still sound half-asleep and reaching for his nightstand drawer. 

But instead of pulling the drawer open, Mickey swung a right hook at Ian, grabbing hold of his jacket and throwing the kid onto his bed. He then got a grip on Ian’s right hand and forced the crowbar from it, slapping the redhead’s wrist against his wall. Ian struggled to turn underneath Mickey, but as the older boy began choking him with his muscular right arm, the younger stood to his feet and turned in a complete circle, sending Mickey crashing onto his dark leather couch. Mickey immediately got up and tried grabbing Ian again, but to his surprise Gallagher overpowered him, pushing him back hard into his taller dresser. Ian then headed back towards Mickey’s bed to retrieve his iron weapon, but with Mickey on his ass it was no fucking use. The older boy was back on top of him with the crowbar in his possession, and so Ian closed his eyes, knowing his short adolescent life was fucking over. 

Or not?

After three full seconds had past and Ian could still feel his brain _not_ splattered all over Mickey’s pillow, he slowly and fearfully opened his eyes. When Ian looked up, Mickey was strangely looking down at him, his blue eyes filled with lust and his left hand not coming down to strike. Ian’s stare followed as Mickey set the crowbar down, and then the boy’s eyes met again, revealing any final secrets their mouths couldn’t voice. 

Get the fuck outta here.

Was Mickey _gay_? And was he gay, and wanting to have sex with Ian?

This shit was like a dream come true. 

Ian Gallagher had fantasized about fucking the shit out of Mickey Milkovich a few times before, but not because he was attracted to him, but because Mickey was such a fucking asshole. Ian really just wanted to see him submissive, (see Mickey having to take the type of pain he loved dishing out). He figured _that_ would teach him a lesson.

Maybe even make him nicer? 

Ian just had no idea he’d ever get the chance. 

"Yeah." He breathed heavily, giving Mickey the green light. 

The older boy backed up off of Ian and ripped his shirt off, scurrying to help the redhead remove his as well. Mickey then laid back on his bed to help easier slide his boxers and sweatpants off, using both hands to pull downward on his clothes until he was lying there, stark naked. 

_Fuck._

For the first time in his life, Ian wasn’t gazing upon Mickey in disgust, so he was noticing specific things that he hadn’t before. The older boy looked amazing naked, but Ian had never noticed how _cute_ Mickey’s actual face was. I mean yeah, his hair was greasy as fuck, his fingernails were chewed off and dirty, and Mickey smelled like he’d been working out before he fell asleep. But it was all so fucking hot. 

Mickey was fucking hot. 

Ian had never noticed how full and pretty Mickey’s lips were, or that underneath all the dirt and grime, Mickey had a few freckles on his face too. His blue eyes were brilliantly cold, and his dark eyebrows were the perfect shape. Mickey really was handsome, and judging from the size of his dick, Ian was worried he was going to try and fuck him. He’d never bottomed before, and could only imagine that “the" Mickey Milkovich was an ass-destroying top. But once Ian’s black pants were down, and he was dressed in only his white socks, Mickey pulled him back onto his bed, making it clear Ian was gonna be the one doing the fucking. 

"Damn Gallagher."

"What?" 

Mickey wasn’t expecting his little sister’s boyfriend to have such a big dick. Like damn, was Gallagher longer than him? He was like fifteen years old, how the fuck was that even fair? 

"Nothin’." Mickey replied, reaching over to his nightstand for a condom. 

There was no way he was gonna compliment this little fucker. Not on his big dick, and especially not on his beautiful bush of red pubic hair. (Ian’s firecrotch was even better than Mickey imagined it would be). 

"How you wanna-"

"Just shut the fuck up." Mickey instructed, in a threatening tone. “Don’t say anything else Gallagher." 

Ian did as he was told, causing the rest of their time together to be ~~awkwardly~~ silent. Only the mattress squeaking, the boys’ deep breaths and moans, and Ian’s skin slapping against Mickey’s, were the random noises audible. And although they weren’t talking, and it was almost completely quiet in his room, both Mickey and Ian were so relaxed. 

So _comfortable._

The older boy opened the gold foil package of the large condom he got from it’s new black box, and quickly slid it onto Ian’s fully erect cock. He then leaned back over to his drawer for some lube, and after squirting a decent amount onto Ian’s boner, re-lubed his asshole and then laid flat on his bed top. Mickey figured it was fate, or destiny, or some shit like that, because right before he went to sleep, he had been playing in his ass with his new dildo. Mandy had come knocking on his door though, asking if he needed anything back from the store (which pretty much ruined his mood and his fucking shot at orgasm). But now he was getting a second chance to cum, and for the first time, it would be with someone else. 

Someone other than himself.

Mickey was pretty confident that he would be able to handle Ian Gallagher. He’d never actually been fucked by a guy before, but he’d done himself hundreds of times, and he did it way rougher than any fag around here could. Still in shock and feeling relieved, Ian just went with the flow of things, doing as he was told and not asking questions. And after Mickey laid back, it only seemed natural that he start fucking him, right? That’s what Mickey wanted.

Right? 

With his knees on Mickey’s bed, and Mickey’s legs not touching him, Ian used his right hand to hold the base of his dick (gripping it for stability), and slowly made his way inside of Mickey. The older boy let out a deep sigh, as if he liked the feel of Ian within him. And the younger boy sighed too, as if he liked being within Mickey. The warm sensation Ian felt through the latex between he and his older partner only made him harder, his dick growing both fuller and longer within Mickey’s asshole. 

"Uhhh, ahhh, uhhh…" Both boys moaned, as the stroke of Ian’s cock quickened.

The feel of Ian fucking him sort of felt the same to Mickey. The difference being he couldn’t control the penetration happening, and he had no idea what the fuck Gallagher would try to do next. Ian’s dick was also reaching further than any toy Mickey had ever played with, so naturally he was biting down on his lower lip, trying to take more length than he was accustomed to. The older boy’s eyes were closed and his head was slightly leaning back on his pillow. He relaxed his entire body, but still made sure to not touch Ian’s, for his own selfish gratification. Though the sex wasn’t passionate, Mickey had never felt this good when it was just him, and so he got lost for a brief moment. Lost with Ian. 

Lost in paradise.

"Mmmm…fuck…ahhh…ahhh…" Mickey moaned in a higher pitch, his eyes shutting tighter. 

It was turning Ian on to see (and hear) Mickey so into this. His face was frowned though and he was biting his lip, making Ian think he might’ve been hurting Mickey. But if that was the case, why hadn’t Mickey stopped him? Ian didn’t know, and he couldn’t fucking ask, so he tried running his long fingers through Mickey’s greasy hair. 

Maybe massaging his scalp would make him feel better?

"Don’t fucking touch me Gallagher!" Mickey yelled enraged, his head popping up and his hand slapping Ian’s away. 

Maybe not? 

Ian _had_ noticed Mickey’s distance from him, if there was such a thing during sex. The older boy wouldn’t wrap his legs around him, or even touch his sides or back, and so again, Ian just went with the flow. If Mickey didn’t wanna touch him (or even look at him) fine. Ian could gladly fuck the shit out of him with no regard for his feelings. He didn’t exactly want to, but if that’s what Mickey desired of him…

Ian was feeling this overwhelming pressure to please his partner. Maybe it was because he was older? Or maybe he just had a crush on Mickey? Either way, Ian wanted to keep him turned on, and leave him thoroughly satisfied. 

The younger boy balled his hands into fists, clenched down hard on his jaw, and began fucking Mickey deeper and harder this time, not caring if he was hurting him or not. Ian spread his legs wider and used his hips to reach into Mickey as far as he could go, his body crashing violently into his future boyfriend’s with every delivered thrust.

"Sfff, fuck, fuck, ahhh, shit!" Mickey moaned faster, his voice growing louder. 

Ian was roughly slamming into him, and it hurt. It didn’t feel good, and the shit wasn’t fun. It **HURT**. What, was Gallagher mad he couldn’t touch him? 

Get the fuck over it. 

Mickey was already letting the kid fuck him, there was no way he was gonna be all ~~lovey dovey~~ with Ian too. And now with Gallagher pounding him like he was a fucking faggot for real, Mickey just couldn’t take Ian’s dick anymore. 

"Stop." He commanded, putting his hand against Ian’s chest. “You hear that?" 

Ian paused before he answered, listening closer and then wondering if he should really speak. 

"Hear what?" 

"I think someone’s here, get the fuck off me." Mickey said, pushing Ian out of him and onto his two feet. 

Ian didn’t hear anything (and he wasn’t going to either) because Mickey was just making up an excuse to get him off. The pain had become too much for him to handle, but Mickey didn’t want Ian to know that was why he’d stopped him, so he tried playing it as cool as possible. 

"I don’t hear anybody coming Mickey…let’s just finish right quick." Ian said smiling, not knowing why Mickey was lying.

"Get the fuck out!" Mickey spat at him, sounding more revolted than ever.

Ian rolled his green eyes and snatched the condom off, throwing it to Mickey’s floor and then reaching for his boxers. What the fuck was Mickey’s problem? Why the fuck was he always such an asshole? Always in such a bad fucking mood. 

Like _always._

Mickey could see Ian’s cock was still just as hard as his was, and Gallagher throwing a little bitch fit wasn’t helping things either. Mickey would’ve taken it if he could, but his ass just couldn’t handle anymore exertion from Ian’s dick (gentle or otherwise). But he also knew it wasn’t fair to let Gallagher leave with blue balls, and more importantly, Mickey still hadn’t came either. 

"Take that shit back off," He said in a normal tone. “Come here." 

Ian thought about disobeying Mickey’s order, but he just couldn’t. He was so into him right now, that he probably would’ve done whatever Mickey asked of him. 

Ian made his way back into his crush’s twin-size bed, sitting next to where the older boy had motioned him. Mickey’s heart was racing fast as shit (and about to beat right out his fucking chest), because he was about to do something else he’d never done, but wanted to for so long. 

The older boy wrapped his left hand around the base of Ian’s cock, and quickly took half of it into his mouth, before he could even think about changing his fucking mind again. 

"Ahhhhhhh." Ian moaned lazily, his green eyes closing shut. 

Mickey was sucking him off, fucking sucking his _dick!_ And it felt damn good too. Ian was so turned on, so fucking hot for Mickey that words couldn’t describe the feelings he had; the sensations running through his mind and body. Ian wanted to place his hand on the back of Mickey’s neck, just to get to _feel_ him, but he didn’t bother. Ian would rather be getting blown by Mickey, than be getting cussed out by him.

One of those things was fun. The other just fucking sucked. 

Mickey began using the hand still holding Ian’s dick, to help him massage his spit into Ian’s long tool. He then cupped Ian’s balls and tried going as deep as he could, until his eyes were red and filled with tears, and he was violently gasping for air. 

"Don’t hurt yourself Mickey." Ian said laughing. 

Mickey couldn’t help but laugh too, as he tried catching his breath. He then leaned up and grabbed Ian by a handful of his dark red hair, forcing Gallagher to return the brief oral favor. 

"Mmmm fuck." Mickey moaned, biting his lip and using Ian’s long hair to guide the boy’s head up-and-down his thick shaft.

Since he was being forced, Ian was obviously sucking Mickey’s dick at the speed he enjoyed most. The redhead didn’t mind being controlled or anything, but he stopped when something important clicked in his mind; Mickey was _touching_ him, fucking touching him. 

That shit wasn’t fair. 

"So you can touch me, but I can’t touch you?" Ian asked with a smile, his right hand still jacking Mickey off. 

Whenever Gallagher smiled that stupid smile, it made Mickey feel… _something._ He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t really give a fuck. Mickey Milkovich just knew he liked seeing Ian Gallagher smile. 

No matter how ~~gay~~ that sounded. 

The older boy paused, and then let Ian’s hair go, “Just jack your own shit Gallagher, I was about to cum anyway." 

Mickey too huh? 

Ian resumed his initial position laying next to Mickey beneath his sheets. Both boys were jacking their dicks off with their eyes closed, and each of them was fantasizing about the other laying beside them. Mickey reached the middle finger on his left hand down between his legs, using the tip to tickle the rim of his tired asshole. And as he began breathing deeper, Ian used his index finger and thumb to pinch Mickey’s nipple, causing the older boy to finally cum. 

"Ahhh, sfff, ahhhhhhh…" Mickey moaned, as he and Ian watched the thick cum shoot up from his dick and splash back down onto his stomach. 

Seeing Mickey cum was obviously contagious, because Ian could feel his heart quicken and knew too his load would be shooting out any second. Mickey used his right hand to scoop up some of his own cum, and then used it as lubricant to jack Ian off. 

"Uhhh, mmmm, mmmm." Ian moaned, throwing both his hands behind his head. 

Mickey tightened his grip on Ian’s hard cock, and began moving his fist faster, wanting Ian to cum. Gallagher had done everything Mickey asked (and then some), so the kid deserved to bust a really good nut. Since he obviously liked his nipples played with, Mickey guessed this would be alright. The older boy ran his tongue around Ian’s nipple and then lightly sucked on it, while making sure to keep his grip tight on the long cock he was still stroking. 

"Fuck, fuck," Ian moaned louder, “I’m about to fucking cum!" 

Mickey stopped sucking Ian’s chest and turned his head, so he could see the boy explode. The redhead moved Mickey’s hand away and took hold of his own cock, changing the stroke so he could cum more comfortably. 

"Ahhhhhhh f-fuckkk!!" Ian cried out, his more waterlike semen almost hitting Mickey directly in his face.

"Damn Gallagher." Mickey said in awe, gawking at all the warm cum that had come soaring out of the younger boy’s balls. 

"What?" Ian repeated, like the first time Mickey had said that. 

"Nothin’." The older boy replied, turning his head. 

Ian could’ve sworn Mickey was trying to hide a smile, but he didn’t want to assume anything. The redhead just smirked to himself, and then would’ve gotten out of the bed, had Mickey’s door not slung wide the fuck open.

_*Gasps*_

"Who was it?" Lip and Mandy asked simultaneously, both their eyes widening in wonder. 

"Terry fucking Milkovich." Mickey answered, before Ian could. 

"Damn, so what happened?" Lip asked. 

"He walks right past us to take a piss, and once he’s leaving was just like, “Mandy’s makin’ eggs…" I guess he didn’t think too much of it ‘cuz then he turns around and he’s like, "…put some clothes on, you two look like a couple of fags." I literally almost died in that fucking bed." 

Lip and Mandy both burst into laughter at the ironic climax of Ian’s story. If only Terry Milkovich had known the truth back then, how different things might be today? 

"That’s fucking hilarious." Lip said laughing. 

"Hell yeah," Mandy agreed, “he didn’t see any _stuff_ on y’all or nothin’?" 

"Guess not." Ian said, shrugging his shoulders. 

Mandy paused to take a sip from her cup, and as the lightbulb went off in her head, she almost spit the cold Old-Style right back out her mouth. 

"Wait! I fucking remember that day! You came out of Mick’s room with a gun under your shirt, and he was all sweaty in the kitchen, eating like a fucking pig."

Ian smiled and began nodding his head slightly, his best friend’s memory was better than he thought.

"Yep, that was the day." 

Mandy paused.

"I’m so fucking stupid!" She said laughing, “Damn, that was a long time ago."

"Who the fuck you tellin’?" Mickey said smiling, looking over at his gorgeous boyfriend. 

"So what happened after Terry left the room?" Lip asked, “Did you ever get the gun back?" 

Ian laughed out loud at his brother’s question, “Maybe Mick should answer that one." 

Lip and Mandy turned to look at Mickey again, desperately wanting to know how the story would end. 

"After we got dressed or whatever, I just tossed it back to him." 

"Is that it?" Mandy asked disappointed. 

Ian smacked his lips together because he knew Mickey was skipping the best part on purpose. What fun was telling the story, if he wasn’t gonna tell it right? 

"C’mon Mick, what happened after that?" Ian asked smiling, teasing his bashful boyfriend.

Mickey paused and then let out a little laugh, why the fuck was he acting so shy? 

This was his _family_ he was talking to. 

"You tried to kiss me, and I told you I would cut your fucking tongue out if you did." 

All four of them began laughing, as they actually thought about the words voiced in Mickey’s threat. It seemed even funnier now, considering the number of times Ian and Mickey had made-out since then. These two really had come along way together, and now Lip sort of understood why Ian felt the way he did about Mickey. They really were in love, and they had a heavier history than anyone could’ve imagined.

 _Way_ heavier.

"So why didn’t you kiss him?" Lip asked his brother’s boyfriend. 

Mickey paused again, but this time had no intention of answering Lip’s question. 

"Oh shit, would you look at the time! Ian and Mandy got school in the morning…they better get to bed now." 

Ian could sense Mickey had gotten uncomfortable, and decided to help him out. It’s not like him trying to change the subject was super obvious or anything. 

"Mick’s right, we should probably get our shit ready tonight."

Lip rolled his eyes, and then smiled his devilish smile. 

"Whatever Milkovich, I’ll find out sooner or later." 

12:07 a.m. 

Ian had just finished getting his clothes ready for the first day back at school, when Mickey started a hot shower for them to take. After they were clean, the boys began kissing each other from the bathroom to their shared room, dripping water onto whatever surfaces they touched. Ian placed both his hands on Mickey’s face, and then used his grip to momentarily stop their kiss.

"Why didn’t you let me kiss you that first time?" Ian asked, hoping to get an answer now that they were alone. 

Mickey looked down and away from Ian, who responded by grabbing his boyfriend’s chin, and making him look back into his bright green eyes. 

"Tell me Mickey," he pleaded. “You can tell me anything." 

Mickey knew he could, he just felt so stupid when it came to this. He felt like a fucking loser whenever he thought about _it._

"I uh-" Mickey stopped. 

"You what?" 

Mickey couldn’t believe he was about to say it. The shit was just so fucking embarrassing, but he knew Ian wouldn’t care. Mickey closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then finally admitted the one secret he’d kept hidden from Ian for so long.

"I had never kissed anyone before, alright? And I was scared that if I tried kissing you back, I would fucking suck at it!" 

Ian’s eyebrows raised and he smiled his full smile. Jesus, had he been Mickey Milkovich’s first _everything?_

"I can’t tell." Ian said flirtatiously, grabbing Mickey’s waist and biting his boyfriend’s bottom lip. “You’re a fucking pro at it now!" 

"Ha! I wonder why Gallagher." Mickey joked, diving his tongue back into Ian’s mouth the way the younger boy had taught him. 

Mickey had a hold of Ian’s hair, and Ian was still holding Mickey’s waist, as both their dicks began to grow harder between their legs. Ian moved his head to Mickey’s neck, transferring his soft kisses onto the surface of Mickey’s throat, licking and sucking his boyfriend’s warm flesh. Mickey then tried mimicking Ian’s movements, but was distracted by the loud (and unexpected) ring of his cellphone. No one ever called him this late. Shit, no one but his boss and random clients ever called Mickey. 

Who the fuck needed to talk to him this late at night? 

The boys ignored Mickey’s cell, letting it ring to voicemail, but then both became agitated when the fucking thing started ringing again. Who the fuck was it that just had to interrupt them _right now?_ Mickey walked over to his jeans to retrieve the device and find out, but was surprised at the answer as he walked it back over to Ian. 

"Who is that?" Ian asked annoyed. 

Mickey was looking down at the contact name that was illuminating the small screen, but still couldn’t believe his own eyes.

"It’s…Casper." 

What?! Was that kid really calling Mickey this late, and for fucking what?! Ian had already talked to him, and basically told him to stay the fuck away from Mickey. Had he not received the message clear enough? Did the kid even give a fuck about being a home-wrecker?! 

Ian snatched the cell from Mickey and flipped it open, yelling angrily into the mobile phone without giving Casper a chance to speak. 

"What?!" He demanded. 

Mickey could hear muffled talking on the other end, and then he saw Ian’s green eyes grow wider, his frowned face shifting softer. 

"No, he’s right here…" Ian said in a more compassionate tone, handing Mickey his cellphone. 

"Hello?"

The wind in the background made the kid’s words difficult to pick up, but Mickey could still hear how broken and low his voice was, and he knew Casper was crying…wherever he was. 

"Mickey?" The kid sobbed with a sense of relief, knowing he was now talking to his ex-lover. 

"Casper, what’s wrong?" Mickey asked panicked. 

He could hear the boy start crying harder, and it immediately broke his fucking heart. Mickey hated the fact that Casper was somewhere alone, and in so much pain. He would’ve done whatever in his power to make the kid feel better though. 

Whatever and _whenever._

"Can you please come pick me up?" 

To Be Continued…


	25. All Shit Happens For A Reason.

12:47 a.m.

Casper’s face was so _bloody._

After they got the most exact location from the kid as possible, Mickey and Ian had immediately put their clothes on and hurried to go pick Casper up. It took some driving around once they got to Lake Shore because Casper wasn’t at home, and he didn’t know the name of the street he was waiting on. When they finally found him, the kid was waiting with a suitcase and a backpack, and as Mickey got out his truck to help, that’s when he first saw his face. Casper’s nose was still dripping fresh blood, while older blood was beginning to dry from the wound that had split the corner of his bottom lip. He had a long, scratch-like cut near his left eye (running from the bottom of his eyebrow over his cheekbone), and the knuckles on his right hand were busted with blood beginning to dry on them too. 

Jesus, what the fuck had happened to Casper? I mean it was obvious he’d been in a fight, but with who? Who would wanna hurt this kid? 

And hurt him this fucking bad?

"What happened to you?" Mickey asked, still kind of horrified at the appearance of the boy in front of him. 

He had only ever seen the kid all clean and dressed up, so Casper’s bruised features and stained clothes were particularly sickening for Mickey to sustain. 

Casper took a step closer to the older boy, and then fell into his arms crying. The kid’s body was shaking, and Mickey knew it wasn’t because he was cold. Casper’s temperature was actually sort of high, and if he could’ve lifted his shirt up, Mickey would also be subject to the large tender bruise in the middle of his abdomen.

What the fuck had happened to this kid?

Ian quickly got out of the passenger side to see what was going on, while Casper struggled to answer Mickey’s question without choking up. 

"M-my dad f-found out a-about us."

‘Oh fuck.’ Ian thought to himself. 

He didn’t know anything about Casper’s dad, but he knew this couldn’t’ve been good. Mickey didn’t understand right away, but thinking back he did remember hearing the kid talk about his dad going ape-shit if he ever found out. 

Fuck! But wait, how the Hell did he find out? 

"Oh fuck." Mickey responded, holding onto the kid tighter, and then turning his head back to look at Ian. 

Mickey’s redheaded boyfriend was almost in tears observing Casper’s corrupt condition. It was like Ian knew exactly what this kid had been going through lately. From Mickey breaking his fucking heart, to his homophobe dad beating the shit out of him. It was like Ian having to re-live all the bullshit he’d been through until he was finally happy in his life, and he felt so bad Casper. 

So fucking bad for the kid. 

Ian’s face was frowned so it almost looked mad, but as he swiftly nodded his head in slight movements, Mickey understood he was being given the _okay_ to console Casper further. 

"It’ll be alright." Mickey assured him, placing his hand on the kid’s head and caressing his brown hair. “Just stop crying."

Casper tried as best he could, but the more he strived to relieve his mind of the thoughts, the more the marred memories broke him up inside. 

"W-why would he d-do this? I-I mean, I know-"

"Shhh." Mickey instructed. “You’re alright now Caz. I got you." 

Hearing his old nickname only made the kid cry harder, and all Mickey could do was keep him bound firmly in his arms. 

"C’mon, let’s take him home." Ian suggested. “Get ‘em cleaned up." 

"I-I’m sorry Ian." Casper said apologizing. He remembered how mad the redhead sounded on the phone, and he _was_ just hugging his boyfriend right in front of him. “I-I didn’t have a-anybody else to call." 

Ian lifted the kid’s backpack off of the paved sidewalk, and slung it securely over his right shoulder. 

"Don’t be sorry Casper, let’s just go."

2:12 a.m. 

After the three of them returned to the Milkovich house, Ian took Casper into the bathroom to get him cleaned up, while Mickey got the kid a pillow and blanket for the couch. Every time Ian pressed the warm washcloth against Casper’s bloody face, the kid would squeeze his eyes shut, wincing in pain. Ian couldn’t blame him though, all Casper’s wounds were so _fresh,_ and the cut on the kid’s face was so **deep**. It took about twenty minutes to get him all done, but by the time he finished showering, Casper wasn’t crying anymore. The kid got dressed in a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and then Ian took him back into the living room, where Mickey was waiting anxiously with the next part of his home remedy. 

"Light or dark?" He asked, raising the two liquor bottles with a smile on his face. 

"Dark… _definitely._ " Casper answered sarcastically. 

Ian and Mickey cracked the same full smile, and both began laughing at the tone of Casper’s voice. 

The kid was obviously feeling better.

"Good choice." Ian said, as the two of them walked over to where Mickey was sitting on the sofa. 

The redhead positioned himself on the last couch cushion, so Casper would have no choice but to sit in-between the two of them, (lucky him). Mickey then cracked the black plastic that sealed the new bottle of whiskey, poured each of them a full shot of Jack, and then repeated the latter action several times more. After the burn of the first few shots subsided, Ian realized he probably wasn’t gonna make it to school in the morning. Fuck it, one more day of Spring Break wouldn’t hurt. 

Would it? 

Mickey waited until he thought Casper was starting to get a good buzz going. He knew the kid was a lightweight (so it didn’t take long), but he also knew the liquor would impair Casper’s mind, and his emotions might get the best of him again. Mickey just had to determine how it was Casper’s dad found out about them hooking up, and Casper was the only one who could provide him with that information. 

Mickey knew it was probably going to hurt the kid to talk about, so he was hesitant and thoughtful with the way he initiated the conversation.

"You uh…you wanna talk about it?"

Casper turned his attention left to quickly glance at Mickey, and then dropped his head back down. The kid waited a second, and then doubtfully shrugged his broad shoulders. 

"So uh, how’d he find out?" Mickey asked, still sounding compassionate.

Casper took another long pause before answering, but this time spoke aloud; his low voice emitting an ice-cold tone. 

"He set up a hidden camera before they left." 

What the fuck? Was this kid fucking serious?

"You fucking serious?" Mickey asked, his soft voice now full of rage.

Casper nodded his head “yes" but didn’t verbally speak.

Before leaving out of town, the kid’s dad had set up two different spy cameras in the corners of the formal living room, (and had also mounted an addition set outside of his own bedroom). He was only making sure Casper would follow his specific instructions to **NOT** have any parties or anyone in his room, but Mr. Casper Duncan, Sr. was more than surprised when he got home and checked the three weeks worth of footage waiting on him. 

Not only did his son like throwing wild parties and smoking weed in a house he paid nothing to live in, his shining prodigy also liked inviting random guys over and giving them blowjobs in the open spaces of his living quarters. 

And what, Casper’s dad was suppose to be okay with that shit? 

"So what happened?" Ian asked, sounding as sweet as Mickey had before he’d gotten pissed off. 

Casper paused again, as new tears began welling inside of him. He had only stopped crying because he wasn’t thinking about it anymore, but his mind was now traveling back into the survived torment of the night.

Back into his third-story bedroom. 

"I was fucking sleep…and then I just feel something hit me in my face…and it just keeps hitting me…"

Casper’s voice painfully cracked as he continued itemizing the disturbing incident. 

"…he wasn’t making any noise so I didn’t know what was going on…my room was dark and he didn’t turn the lights on, so I couldn’t really see anything…I felt something sharp cut close to my eye, and it started burning real bad…maybe his class ring, I-I’m not sure…but then the lights come on, and it’s my mom…she runs over screaming, trying to get him off me…"

Tears had begun running from the kid’s pretty brown eyes again, but Casper wouldn’t stop telling his story (and nor did Mickey or Ian want him to). Both boys placed a hand on the kid’s back to comfort him though, massaging him lightly to help ease the continuation of his story.

"…he stops hitting me because of her or whatever, but that’s when he starts calling me a queer, telling my mom to go look at the tapes if she didn’t believe him…"

Mickey couldn’t help but start feeling guilty again. He’d wanted to break down the way Casper was when Terry had caught him and Ian together, but he was too stubborn for that. 

Too proud. 

This kid was so innocent though, and so broken, that all he could do was cry, and Mickey knew it was his fault. He was so tired of always hurting Casper. 

So tired of seeing the kid _unhappy._

"…she said she didn’t care, that I was still her son…she was gonna call the police, so he finally let me get up…I tried to go to my bathroom but he wouldn’t let me…he told my mom to pack me a bag, grabbed me by the back of my neck, and then shoved me into the elevator door…he kicked me so hard in my stomach, and then just disappeared downstairs…"

Casper lifted his wounded hands to his head and buried his face into his palms, causing his mangled voice to gradually trail off.

"That’s enough man, you don’t gotta say nothin’ else." Mickey said, trying to persuade the kid to stop. 

Both he and Ian had, had enough of Casper’s story. With the way they were picturing it all had happened, the gruesome cuts and bruises covering his body, and the way the kid cried as he had to remind himself of what he’d been through, Mickey and Ian just wanted him to stop talking about it. 

To just fucking forget it already.

Casper wanted to finish though. He wanted them to know how it was he came about calling Mickey for help. Why he wasn’t sound asleep in his bed, dreading the fact that he had school in just a few hours. 

And more than anything, Casper wanted them to know the last words his father had _spat_ at him. 

That shit was what hurt him the most. 

"…my mom rode the elevator down with me, gave me the only cash she had on her…she told me she loved me and that she was so sorry…my dad was waiting by the front, I could hear his shoe tapping against the tile floor so I knew he was waiting on me…he had the tape of us in his hand and he threw it at me…he called me a faggot, and then pushed me out the door…"

Casper became a little hysterical, his breathing rate increasing as his story came to a close.

"…I could hear my mom start yelling again but I couldn’t really understand her…then I hear the door open so I turn around, but it was only him…he throws like two-hundred dollars at me, and then spits directly in my face…he told me he didn’t care what happened to me, and to never come back to his fucking house…that I wasn’t his fucking kid anymore." 

What the _fuck?_

Even after he caught him getting butt-fucked by Ian, Terry Milkovich hadn’t kicked Mickey out; and honestly, that thought had never even occurred to him. Sure, he made his son marry the same Russian skank who raped him in front of the love of his life, but at least he knew Mickey was safe. Shit, Terry thought he was helping his son, as fucked up as that sounds. Say what you will about Terry Milkovich, but there was one key thing about the man that made him a ~~decent~~ father. 

Terry had _never_ abandoned his kids. 

"Stop crying Caz, you’re alright now." Mickey said, trying his best to get him to stop.

"I know, I’m sorry man." Casper said, wiping his face and trying to calm down. “It just happened so fast, and now I don’t know what to do." 

That made a lot of sense, but the kid couldn’t just cry about it forever.

Didn’t he know he was safe here? 

Didn’t he know he was safe with Mickey?

"You can stay here as long as you need to." Mickey assured him, “I might have to start chargin’ your ass rent, but you can stay." 

Casper briefly laughed at Mickey’s joke, but then was miserably silent again. 

"I ever tell you how my old man died?"

Mickey knew he hadn’t, but he hoped it would help the kid feel better. And with the way Casper looked up all curious and shit, Mickey could only imagine his plan was working. 

"No, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t even know." Casper responded in a normal tone. 

"It’s cool. Silly bastard came in drunk off his ass. He heard me and Ian talking and went crazy. Beat the shit out of us-"

"Beat the shit out of us _again._ " Ian clarified. 

"Ha," Mickey chuckled at the truth of his boyfriend’s correction, “beat the shit out of us _again,_ knocks us both completely out, and then starts beatin’ the shit out of Mandy too." 

Jesus Christ, and Casper thought his dad was a fucking asshole. 

"So what happened to him?" The kid inquired, his brown eyes now completely dry and wide with wonder. 

Mickey paused before finishing, but only to make the story seem more dramatic. Casper had finally stopped crying, and he wanted to keep the kid’s mind occupied. 

"He always carried that fucking pistol with him. She got ahold of it and shot him…right in his chest." 

"Are you serious?" Casper asked in disbelief.

"Yeah man, I know. It was pretty fucked up. Sometimes I uh-" Mickey stopped. 

"You what?" Casper asked, as Ian turned to face Mickey; curious to see what his boyfriend would say.

"I uh…I kinda wish he was still here, you know? He was a fucking asshole but…I don’t know…maybe if he would’ve just _tried_ to understand? I guess I just…I kinda miss him sometimes."

Ian had never heard Mickey talk about Terry, and especially not in that way. After the funeral was over and Ian moved in, that night had sort of just become something to not think about. 

Had Mickey wanted to talk about losing his dad? 

Had Ian been wrong for _not_ asking? 

"I’m sorry." Casper repeated, “I really don’t know what to say." 

"I’m good kid, really." Mickey assured him. “It fucking taught me somethin’ though." 

"Taught you what?" Ian and Casper asked simultaneously.

Mickey took another dramatic pause before answering.

"All shit happens for a reason." 

Casper nodded his head like he was truly heeding Mickey’s wisdom, while Ian laughed hysterically at his boyfriend’s foresight.

What, was Mickey a fucking guru now? 

"That’s a good lesson Mick." Ian joked, still laughing out loud. 

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey said laughing too. “I’m serious Gallagher! Look at us now, all shacked up and shit. If we could do it all over, I’d do everything the exact same." 

Ian could only smile when Mickey said shit like that. It was in those moments that he was reminded of how much Mickey undoubtedly loved him back. 

And all he could do was smile. 

Listening to Mickey talk about Ian made Casper smile too. He had been doing way better getting over Mickey after his talk with Ian, and seeing real love in front of him gave the kid hope.

Maybe Ian and Mickey were right? 

Maybe there would be light at the end of the tunnel? 

"Are you guys happy?" Casper asked, looking to his left and then turning right. 

"I am." Ian responded slowly, his head nodding up-and-down. 

No one had ever asked Mickey that question before, but he knew he could answer it honestly. He hadn’t known the simple word _happy_ was such a real and loaded emotion, but he did now, and he knew that’s what he felt. 

Mickey knew _Ian_ was his happiness. 

"That’s my happy right there." Mickey answered, titling his head towards his boyfriend. 

"I love you too Mick." Ian said with a smile. 

Casper looked down, feeling just a little awkward between them. 

"Alright enough with the heavy shit." Ian said, sensing Casper’s discomfort and pulling a bag of weed from his pocket. “Mick told me he taught you how to roll a joint. Here, show me what you got kid." 

As he grabbed the clear plastic from the redhead, Casper’s full smile returned to his bruised face. 

"I’ll show you what you’re boyfriend taught me alright." He responded flirtatiously. 

Both Ian and Mickey began laughing out loud again. Even bruised, cut up, and a little heart-broken, Casper was still a fucking smartass. 

Still a smartass, and still _so fucking cute._

"Yeah, I’m sure you will." 

3:22 a.m.

After Casper finished rolling the joint, the boys got high and then took a few more shots. Mickey had gotten horny sometime after his fourth hit, and Ian had been hot for him since earlier when Mickey was saying how much he loved him. They entertained Casper for a few more minutes, and then made sure the kid was fucking wasted before they left to go finish what they’d originally started. 

_Three fucking hours ago._

"Alright Caz, we’re calling it a night. If you need anything, you know where our room is." Mickey said, getting up off the couch so the kid could spread out.

"Y-yeah, I took a shower in there earlier." Casper said, slurring his words.

"Yeah you did." Mickey said laughing. 

The kid was definitely wasted. 

Like, _**nearly incoherent wasted.**_

"You think he’s gonna be okay?" Ian asked, lowering his voice as they exited the living room. 

"Yeah, he just needs to sleep it off." Mickey said, not thinking twice about it. “He’s gonna feel like shit in the morning, but he’ll be fine." 

"I guess." Ian responded, turning his head to look back at Casper and not feeling too convinced. 

By the time Ian’s dick was hard and inside of Mickey, Casper sloppy-drunk on the couch was the last thing on both their minds. They would’ve been wise to go check on the kid though, because if they had…things might’ve turned out different. 

_Way_ different.

Casper’s eyelids were so heavy, but something inside the kid was itching for a cigarette; just one or two hits before bed, that’s all he needed. He was fucking relieved when he looked over and saw Mickey’s pack of non-menthols lying on the table, and even more relieved when he located Ian’s square, silver Zippo. 

The kid quickly opened the box, lifted a single stick (filter-end first) to his lips, and then sparked the white roll of blended tobacco.

"Mmmm…" He moaned in pleasure.

Casper immediately felt a wave of serenity engulf him, and so he took another hit to drown himself deeper into the nicotine-induced paradise; but as he exhaled the second drag of smoke through his nostrils, the kid couldn’t help but close his exhausted, pretty brown eyes. 

"Ahhh…" He moaned again, laying his heavy head back against the pillow. 

And then Casper drifted to sleep, with the cigarette still lit in his hand. 

To Be Continued…


	26. You Said You Love Me, Right?

3:25 a.m.

As Casper drifted deeper into sleep, the grip his right index and middle finger had on his cigarette was slowly weakening. His left arm was rested in his lap, and his body was laid across the entirety of the Milkovich couch. The kid’s right arm followed after it’s opposite and settled against his upper thigh, while his right hand’s strength was still growing more and more faint. Sixty more seconds might’ve passed before his fingers finally gave out, but when they did, the lit end of Casper’s cigarette fell down onto the back of his hand, and burned one of the (already) busted knuckles that had just stopped bleeding.

"Sfff fuck!" He screamed, popping up out of his sleep and putting the cigarette out.

It was bad enough his right knuckle’s flesh was excruciatingly exposed, but now that hurt flesh was getting burned too? Jesus, the kid couldn’t catch a break. He was the one who had fallen asleep with the cigarette still lit, but damn, he just needed like a hit or two. 

Casper unsteadily sat up on the couch and waited patiently for the room to stop spinning. He was still fucking wasted, and even with the majority of the lights cut off, the kid was still dizzy as shit. 

Fucking lightweight.

By the time his mind had cleared itself of the haze, Casper decided he should probably get a few bandages to cover his wounded hand, before returning back to sleep. As he stood to his feet and headed towards Ian and Mickey’s room, the kid’s head began hastily spinning again. 

"Fuck." He slurred, as he stumbled further down the hallway.

If Casper wasn’t so drunk he would’ve remembered earlier when Ian told him they didn’t have any Band-Aids, but somewhere between the shots of Jack and the joints, that important piece of information had slipped the kid’s conscious.

Once he reached the door he thought belonged to Ian and Mickey, Casper (unthinkingly) opened it without knocking, and was taken back by what he saw. 

It was a boy. 

Just _one_ boy. 

He was an older guy, laying up in his bed with boxers on. His long hairy legs were as skinny as his torso was, and his thin arms had a slight tone to them (mostly just his shoulder muscles). Casper knew the boy was older because of the brown facial hair covering his cheeks and his chin, and the guy’s jaw was also really square and developed. As the boy stared back at him, Casper could see his eyes were the same shape and blue color as Mickey’s, and they might’ve shared the same nose too. This boy’s lips weren’t as full as his ex-lover’s though, and his eyebrows weren’t fashioned in the same perfect manner. 

He was really cute though, whoever he was. 

"Oh shit!" Casper laughed embarrassedly. “I thought this was Mickey’s room." 

The kid did have a valid reason to be confused. Mickey had made Iggy a cardboard “Stay The Fuck Out" sign that matched his, so both their white doors did look pretty identical. 

"It’s cool kid, you need a bucket or somethin’?" Iggy asked, sensing how wasted Casper was just by looking at him.

This boy’s voice was way deeper than Mickey’s, and his tone was slightly raspier too. Casper would’ve been annoyed that this person had taken it upon himself to call him _kid_ like everyone else had been doing, but he was so fucking cute that the shit didn’t matter. 

But wait, was he insulting him? 

Was it that obvious Casper had been drinking? 

"No, nothing like that." He said, trying to sound as normal as possible. “You don’t have any Band-Aids, do you?" 

Iggy slowly looked Casper up and down, wondering what the fuck he needed a Band-Aid for. He had been up (unbeknownst to Ian, Mickey, and Casper) listening to what had happened to the kid; but the cut on Casper’s face was too big for a regular bandage to protect, so he was curious as to what injury the kid wanted to cover. 

"What you need a Band-Aid for?" Iggy inquired, still laying across his bed. 

"My knuckles are busted, and I just accidentally burned one of them." Casper answered, lifting his right hand into the air. 

Iggy moved to position himself at the edge of his bed, and then quickly opened his top night-stand drawer. 

"Come here, lemme see it."

As Casper made his way next to Iggy, the older boy retrieved the box of assorted bandages he kept hidden from his siblings. With the amount of fights the Milkovich boys (and girl) got into, the box of Band-Aids in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet was always empty, so Iggy had decided it was probably best to just keep his own.

"Damn." He said, observing the kid’s battered hand. “The fuck you hit?" 

Iggy didn’t recall hearing Casper talk about striking his dad back. He actually didn’t remember hearing him say anything about his busted hand. The kid had obviously hit something though.

And he hit it hard as fuck.

"I punched the window out my dad’s favorite car." Casper answered with a smirk. 

The kid’s mischievous smile made the older boy laugh. He had heard how bad Casper was crying earlier, and it had sort of disappointed him when he thought the kid didn’t retaliate. But now that he knew Casper did do something spiteful in return, he felt more respect for him. 

Iggy felt proud of the kid. 

"Good, that motherfucker deserved it." He said, handing Casper four sealed bandages from the box.

Casper looked up into Iggy’s cold blue eyes, somewhat confused at his response. 

Did this guy know some of the details of what happened to him earlier? 

"Sorry." Iggy said, realizing Casper probably knew. “I was kinda eavesdropping earlier." 

Guess so. 

"It’s cool. Are you uh, Mickey’s brother?" Casper asked, feeling confident he already knew the answer. 

"Yeah, Iggy."

Iggy? Was that his real name? 

"Is that your real name?" Casper asked, laughing to himself as he repeated it in his mind. 

"Yeah, my name funny to you?" Iggy demanded in a serious tone. 

The corners of Casper’s full lips turned back down, and his pretty brown eyes grew wide with fear. 

"No, it’s really cool. I just-" 

"Calm down kid, I’m just playin’." Iggy said, cutting him off and laughing at how scared he’d gotten. 

The younger boy just smiled the smile that showed both his dimples, and turned his attention back to his hand. He then opened the first elastic Band-Aid from it’s wrapper, and covered his burned knuckle with it. 

"Casper." The kid stated.

"What?" Iggy asked confused. 

"You keep calling me kid…my name is Casper." 

"Ohhh." He answered, sounding enlightened.

The eldest Milkovich _had_ been trying to figure out what the fuck this kid’s name was. He heard his little brother keep calling him “Caz" but he couldn’t figure out what it could be short for.

Casper huh? And this kid thought Iggy was a funny name? 

"That’s a great name kid." Iggy joked in a sarcastic tone. 

"Whatever, _Iggy_." Casper responded just as sarcastic. 

"Ha, fuck off!" He laughed out loud. 

This kid was a fucking smartass.

And Iggy fucking liked it. 

Drunk or sober, boy or girl, it didn’t fucking matter. He knew from their brief conversation that he had never met any _person_ like this kid before, so why bother over-thinking things?

Iggy just knew he liked talking to Casper.

“How’d you burn ya fucking hand anyway?" 

The younger boy was hesitant answering, but the liquor in his system prevented him from prevaricating.

"I uh, I fell asleep smoking." 

"What the fuck kid," Iggy said laughing. “You could’ve blown the goddamn house up!" 

"Shhh, they’ll hear you." Casper responded with a smile, placing his left index finger against his lips, and his right against Iggy’s. 

The touch of this kid’s finger was both warm and soft against Iggy’s mouth. 

He looked down at the hand touching him with contentment, and then back into the light brown eyes of the boy that hand belonged to. Because he hadn’t forced the finger away, and neither one of the boys were talking, the atmosphere in the room had gotten _pretty_ awkward.

"Well uh, thanks for the Band-Aids man. I really needed them." Casper said, getting up to exit Iggy’s room.

The older boy didn’t immediately respond, but watching Casper inch closer to his door made him suddenly speak up.

"You know, y-you ain’t gotta sleep out there by yourself." 

Casper turned around before reaching the doorway, and he had that same mischievous smirk on his face. 

"What, you gonna sleep on the couch with me?" The kid joked in his sarcastic tone. 

Iggy returned to the original position he was in before Casper came stumbling in, and he didn’t respond with the same deceptive articulation. 

"Na…why don’t you just stay in here?"

3:45 a.m.

"Why you so quiet?" Mickey questioned.

He and Ian had just finished fucking the shit out of each other and were now laying naked on-top of their covers. The redhead was propped up against his pillow with his legs extended out, and Mickey’s dark-haired head was nestled into his bare lap. Both boys had the same feeling of relief, and they were both covered in a thin layer of cooling sweat. Ian’s left arm was bent and laid flat against Mickey’s torso, and his right hand was pulling at his boyfriend’s damp strands of hair. The older boy was smoking a cigarette (yes, Mickey had multiple packs in multiple places) looking up at Ian, who had finally spoke after laying quiet, for what seemed like forever. 

"Why didn’t you ever tell me about your dad?" He demanded, sounding hurt.

"What?" Mickey asked, leaning up to sit straight and looking back at Ian.

"You never told me you missed him." He answered. “You never even talk about him." 

Mickey didn’t really like thinking about his relationship with Terry, let alone _talking_ about it. All his life he and his dad had actually been really close, but as the years went on and certain secrets were discovered, things had become sort of complicated between them. 

Mickey had wanted to kill Terry after he found out what he’d been doing to Mandy, and things had become _especially_ awkward after the first time Terry caught him with Ian. 

So why the Hell would Mickey want to bother him with some sad, sappy bullshit about his dad? 

He knew Ian **hated** Terry.

"It’s just…I-I don’t think you would get it."

Ian’s face frowned in confusion. What wasn’t there to fucking understand?

"Get what?"

Mickey paused, trying to figure out the best way to word things. 

"My dad wasn’t like Frank. I’m not sayin’ he was perfect, but he taught me all the shit I know. After my mom died he started drinking again, and I think that really fucked him up. Not sayin’ any of the shit he did was right, but I don’t know…I don’t think he was as bad as you think he was." 

Ian just nodded his head in response. 

He understood the fact that Mickey was defending his deceased father. It was true, he didn’t know the real Terry Milkovich; but the pieces of the man Ian saw, were far too ugly for him to even _want_ to take a closer look. Maybe he hadn’t asked about Terry because he honestly didn’t care? Maybe Ian thought the asshole got what he fucking deserved? But why had Mickey only brought the shit up to Casper? 

What the fuck was that about? 

"Do you still like him?"

"What?" Mickey asked confused. 

Were they still talking about his dad?

"The only time you ever brought him up was because of Casper."

Mickey got up off the edge of his shared bed annoyed. 

That’s what this was about, Gallagher was fucking jealous? Hadn’t they already talked all this shit out? And Ian fucking saw what the kid’s dad had did to him. 

What the fuck was Gallagher’s problem?

"You saw what his fucking dad did to him." Mickey said, sounding as frustrated as he looked. “I was just tryna make him feel better."

Ian rolled his eyes.

It seemed like Mickey was always trying to make that fucking kid feel better. And what the fuck was _he_ mad for? 

"So why the fuck do you keep calling him Caz?" Ian spat in disgust, standing to his feet on the opposite side of their bed.

Mickey paused again, but this time remained quiet. He hadn’t realized he’d been calling the kid that, but now he understood why Gallagher was acting the way he was. 

"I-I didn’t even…I’m-"

"I just want you to be honest Mickey." Ian said, cutting his boyfriend’s hesitant words short. 

Mickey _had_ been telling Ian the truth. 

"I told you before, me and that kid…it didn’t mean nothin’." He maintained, in a calmer tone. “Fuck Gallagher, I thought you were over this shit?" He added, walking closer to the redhead.

"I am. I’m just-" 

It was Mickey who cut Ian’s words short this time. The older boy had made his way in front of his boyfriend, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and began looking him directly into his bright green eyes. 

"Jesus, I don’t know how many times I have to fucking say this Gallagher…You’re the one that makes me happy. I look at you, and I know I never wanna fucking loose you. I’m sorry I fucked that kid…I really am, but the shit happened. It’s over now though, and I’d never fucking hurt you again."

Ian cracked a half-smile, and there was silence in the room as both boys stared into each other’s eyes. 

"You still love me don’t you?" Mickey asked hypothetically. 

"You know I do." 

"No Gallagher, I wanna hear you fucking say it." 

Ian’s half-smile expanded into a full grin, and he responded without hesitation.

"I love you Mickey." 

"I love you too dumbass, so what the fuck are we fighting about right now?" 

Mickey had a valid argument going, and so Ian couldn’t think of anything else clever to say. The redhead just stood there, until Mickey’s face looked like it was pissed again. 

"Put some clothes on." He instructed, his voice sounding irrational.

"What?" Ian asked. 

He was confused at why he needed to put clothes on, but was even more taken back at the sudden change in Mickey’s attitude. 

"Just put some fucking clothes on, I’ll be in the truck." 

4:14 a.m. 

The only reason Ian was still awake was because of the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He didn’t know why he’d listened to Mickey (but he did), and now he was more on edge than ever. He had no idea where the fuck they were going, and when Mickey suddenly pulled his truck over and cut the headlights off, Ian’s heart began beating even faster.

"Put this on." Mickey said, reaching into the driver-side door and retrieving a black bandana. 

"Uhhh?" 

"Just fucking do it Gallagher. We’re almost there, but you gotta put the blindfold on first." 

The last time Mickey blindfolded Ian he wound up with a shiny new present. The only difference this time, was that they weren’t in the safe dwellings of the Gallagher house, and Mickey was acting like a fucking psycho. 

I mean seriously, what the fuck were they doing parked on a street corner at four o’clock in the fucking morning?

"Where are we going?" Ian tried asking again. 

Mickey was still intentionally sounding crazy. “It’s a surprise." 

"Fuck no." He responded simply.

"Ha, I’m serious Gallagher." Mickey said laughing, his voice returning to it’s normal tone. “Would you _please_ just put the fucking thing on." 

Ian exhaled deeply, and then rolled his eyes at the face Mickey was giving him. He snatched the decorated cloth from his hands, and then finally obliged to his boyfriend’s wish.

A few more minutes of driving passed and Ian felt the tires of Mickey’s truck bump over the broken cement of the entrance to a parking lot. The tires of the vehicle came to a stop, and then Ian heard Mickey shut the truck’s loud engine off. 

"You ready?" He asked eagerly.

"I uh, I guess Mickey." 

Ian didn’t really sound ready…but he fucking would be.

"Alright Gallagher, take the blindfold off."

It didn’t take the redhead’s green eyes long to focus in on the bright red neon lights blinking the words _24-HOUR TATTOO,_ outside this small white building. All Ian’s panic had turned to anticipation, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so fucking **anxious**. 

"Mickey?" He asked, hesitantly so it was a question. 

The older boy smiled, and then reminded his boyfriend of something key he himself had stated just minutes ago. 

"You said you love me, right?" 

To Be Continued…


	27. Shut The Fuck Up.

5:07 p.m.

"Damn Red, you had a long night or what?" 

"Oh shit." Ian yawned, opening his eyes and reaching for a magazine. 

He and Nick were in the midst of another boring shift at the Kash & Grab, and Ian was still exhausted, despite the fact that he had skipped the first day back at school. He had tried standing up to stay awake but wound up passed out against the magazine rack, his head using the top row of newspapers as a pillow.

"Fuck were _you_ doin’ all night?” Nick asked with a smirk. 

Ian threw his magazine onto the countertop and began lazily flipping through it. His back was turned to the door and both his hands were supporting the weight of his limp body. He let out a light laugh at the tone of Nick’s voice, and was then interrupted by the door as he tried responding. 

"Me and Mic-"

**DING, speak of the devil.

Through the doors of the Kash & Grab walked an arousing Mickey Milkovich, and some boy Nick had never seen before. Mickey looked really good (as usual) but the kid he was with struck Nick as…different. He was obviously really cute, but there was something just _different_ about him. There was this big ass cut running down the side of his face, but the kid didn’t look tough at all. He hadn’t made a sound, but Nick could feel this sort of sweet energy radiating from him. 

Who was this kid? 

Nick desperately wanted to find out.

"First aid shit’s over there." Mickey said, talking to Casper and then turning to walk towards Nick and Ian.

"What’s up Milkovich?"

"Trahan." Mickey responded simply, tilting his chin up and wrapping his arms around Ian from behind. 

The redhead responded by turning around to look into his boyfriend’s cold blue eyes. Nick noticed Ian’s sudden boost of energy as he grabbed hold of Mickey’s neck, and he was pretty sure they had gotten fucking married judging by the huge grins on both their faces. Mickey pulled Ian in for a quick peck on the lips, and then their brief display of public affection was over. 

"What you boys up to?" He inquired, reaching under the back of the counter for his stash of Barbecue Pringles (the Original flavor, not that Sweet Mesquite bullshit). 

"Who is that?" Nick asked lowering his voice. 

"What, you tryna fuck him too?" Mickey responded sarcastically, popping a chip into his mouth.

"Ha, fuck off!" Nick laughed, looking back at the boy. "But for real, who is that?" 

Ian rolled his eyes kind of annoyed. 

"That’s Casper." He informed him.

“ _That’s_ Casper?” Nick repeated, glancing back at him once more. “He’s fucking sexy.”

It was typical Nick the way we was eyeballing the kid, he was always really clear about _anything_ he wanted. He must’ve noticed Ian’s irritation though, because he quickly changed the subject.

"Anyway, what were you doing last night?" 

Mickey turned to look at Ian surprised, his face stuffed full of chips.

"You didn’t show him?" He mumbled, causing crumbs to drop from his mouth to the floor.

"Show me what?" Nick asked curiously.

Before Ian could answer for himself, Mickey wiped the flavor-covered fingers of his right hand against his blue jeans to clean them, and then lifted his boyfriend’s striped t-shirt to reveal the obvious answer. 

"He was up all night getting this." 

"Damn." Nick replied, taking a closer look at the redhead’s side. 

Ian had a tattoo. 

A big tattoo.

The fresh ink was running from the top of his rib cage down below his toned waistline. It was an extensive black-and-gray piece with black shadows, and a sort of dark theme. At first glance it was a fallen angel, or a demon, or some shit like that. The face of the character was frowned and sad, and it’s wings were sharp and wicked. The tattoo didn’t really seem like something Ian would want to have permanently marked onto his body, so Nick didn’t immediately understand; but as he took a closer look at the work of art, the idea became more clear. 

"I-is that Milkovich?" He asked astonished.

Before Nick could get an answer to that question though, Mickey lifted his own shirt, revealing the newest addition to his collection of tattoos. 

It was stunning, and it matched Ian’s. 

Mickey’s enormous piece was also a winged figure covering the length of his left side. It was completed in the same black-and-gray ink, but this tattoo wasn’t themed as dark as Ian’s was. This character’s wings didn’t have the same harsh edges or forlorn face, and the entire piece was highlighted with light strokes of white ink. 

And this time it didn’t take Nick’s eyes so long to recognize, the profile of this character’s face was modeled after Ian Gallagher’s. 

Both the figure’s faces were turned to the side with one wing extending out that covered a small portion of each boy’s back, and that same wing ran down and across their waistline until it faded into a pair of small cursive initials near their pelvic regions. Two capital “M’s” were tattooed near Ian’s crotch, and a parallel “I” and “G” were marked onto Mickey’s.

Separately the tattoos didn’t make much sense, but together it was like a fucking masterpiece. Like Yin and Yang, like Jack Daniels and orange juice. 

Like Mickey Milkovich and Ian Gallagher. 

"That’s fucking sick." Nick said, looking back-and-forth between the two tattoos. "Shit looks like it hurt."

"It did." Ian answered, sounding spoiled. "It still fucking does." 

Mickey laughed at how his boyfriend had replied, and as Casper brought the items he’d needed to the front, Mickey pulled Ian to the side, giving both sets of boys some much needed alone time. 

"Bag that shit up for him Trahan, we’ll be right back." 

"Mhmmm." Nick replied, smiling as he watched Ian and Mickey enter the walk-in cooler.

Before the door of the oversized refrigerator closed, Mickey was already attempting to undo the button that was keeping Ian’s pants from falling to the floor. After they’d left the tattoo shop, they were in too much pain and just too tired to fuck; and Ian had slept all the up until the start of his shift, so to say Mickey was horny, was _definitely_ an understatement.

"No Mick." Ian protested, grabbing hold of his boyfriend’s wrists.

"The fuck Gallagher?" 

"You know I hate starting and not getting to finish." 

"We can make it quick." Mickey said, smiling and biting down on his bottom lip.

"Na, c’mon Mick." Ian responded, opening his green eyes wide, causing his eyebrows to wrinkle his forehead.

Ugh.

Gallagher knew that stupid fucking face got him anything he wanted. Truth be told it only made Mickey hornier, but Ian was probably right. 

Waiting would be worth it.

"Fuck Gallagher." Mickey exhaled frustratedly. "What time you gettin’ off?"

Ian smirked, because he knew his impatient boyfriend already had full knowledge of the answer. 

"You know I gotta close tonight." 

Mickey exhaled louder this time, and then rolled his eyes like Ian would do when he was irritated.

"Fucking hurry that shit up Gallagher, I know how long it takes to close." 

The redhead laughed, stepping closer to the older boy and then grabbing him by his waist, taking care to not harm his healing memento.

"You just be ready when I get off." Ian warned, planting a single kiss onto Mickey’s lips. 

“ _You_ be ready when you get off.” Mickey advised in return.

The way he kept biting his bottom lip was making Ian just as horny as Mickey was, so the redhead leaned in for one more kiss, just for a sample of the (nasty) things to come later. 

Ian pressed his lips against Mickey’s hard, tilting his head to the right and forcing the older boy’s mouth open. As he began using his tongue to circle Mickey’s, and Mickey grabbed a firm hold of his freckled neck, all Ian could taste was barbecue chips and stale cigarette smoke, coming from his boyfriend’s oral embrace. 

The redhead’s tongue stopped circling so perfect, because of the smile now present on his face. He loved his Mickey, loved him so much, and it was shit like his tobacco-tinged Pringle breath, that only made Ian love him more. 

"Mmmm, fuck Gallagher."

The older boy removed his tongue from Ian’s mouth, and lightly pressed a single peck to his boyfriend’s soft lips, ending the course of their heated make out. That was enough fucking kissing, especially if Ian wasn’t gonna fuck him. 

Mickey could _literally_ feel the pre-cum escaping from the hard cock pressed beneath his blue jeans.

"Alright, lemme take him back home. Trahan’s probably out there trying to molest him or some shit."

Ian laughed at the validity of his boyfriend’s clever joke, and then slowly let go of his tender waist. 

"Okay. I love you Mickey."

"I love you too." He responded, rubbing his right hand’s thumb down the length of Ian’s red eyebrow. 

"So fucking much." 

5:42 p.m.

Once Mickey and his younger acquaintance had left the Kash & Grab, there was one thing (and one thing only) left on Nick’s mind. 

Mr. Casper Duncan Jr.

"You didn’t tell me the kid was cute like that." 

Jesus, he we go again.

"I’m sorry." Ian answered sarcastically. "By the way, Casper’s _really_ fucking cute.” 

Nick let out a light chuckle.

"Why you gotta be such a dick Red?" 

"Why you gotta fall over ever guy you meet Nick?"

"Fuck off." He laughed out again. "You gonna hook me up with him or what?" 

Nick was always really ~~forward~~ charming when it came to hooking up with a new guy. 

Couldn’t he do that match-making shit himself?

"Weren’t you just talking to him? You can do that match-making shit yourself."

"C’mon Red, would you _pleaseeeeeee_ just give him my number.” Nick begged with a smile. 

The boy’s pathetic grin alone had convinced Ian to help him, but the more he thought about it, the more Nick and Casper seemed like a good idea. The rich kid would finally have someone to cherish him, and Nick… 

well, Nick would just have another dick to keep him satisfied. 

"Alright." Ian obliged, rolling his eyes. 

"Thank you!" Nick said still smiling. "But like, as soon as you get home." 

Typical Nick Trahan.

"Alright, shit." He snarled.

"Thank you Ian, seriously." Nick said in a softer tone.

The redhead looked up into Nick’s dark brown eyes (because he had called him “Ian”) and saw that he looked happy. 

Genuinely happy. 

Maybe Nick wanted to do more than just fuck Casper? 

Maybe he actually liked the kid?

"Don’t mention it man."

Nick looked down and smiled at the ground, like he was embarrassed or blushing; and then he tried his best to disguise the excitement growing inside of him, no matter how good thinking about Casper felt.

"Lift your shirt up one more time Red, lemme see that tattoo again."

11:37 p.m.

When Ian got home, the Milkovich house was so quiet. He walked past the living room and noticed Casper wasn’t on the couch, (and he didn’t see any of the kid’s belongings on the floor either). As he inched closer to the hallway he didn’t hear Lip or Mandy’s voices, so Ian figured they must’ve already been asleep. When he opened the door to his shared bedroom, all of the lights were cut off and Mickey’s radio wasn’t playing it’s usual station. 

What the fuck was going on?

With a flick of the light’s switch, Ian was more than startled being greeted by a nude Mickey Milkovich, standing in the dark, gripping a pair of metal handcuffs.

"Jesus Mick, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I told you to be ready." Mickey said, jogging his boyfriend’s mind. "Take that shit off. Get on the bed." 

Ian immediately lifted his t-shirt over his head and ripped his khaki pants off, leaving him left standing in only his navy blue boxer shorts, his black socks, and his gold rope chain. The redhead’s older boyfriend assisted him with his underwear, pulling Ian’s boxers down in one swift motion to reveal his long, growing cock. Mickey then used the strength of his big arms and chest, to grab hold of Ian and throw him onto their bed.

The older boy straddled his young boyfriend, locking lips with him and using the hand not holding the cuffs to pull fistfuls of his red hair. Mickey then slowly moved his left hand down to grab hold of Ian’s right wrist. He carefully lifted the redhead’s arm over his head, and then securely linked it to the wooden headboard.

"Wait, fuck." Ian protested, his mind getting a chance to clear while being bonded to the bed. 

"Shut up." Mickey demanded, biting down on Ian’s bottom lip.

"Mmmm." He moaned. "No, hold up Mick. I gotta go give something to Casper." 

"What?" Mickey asked confused.

"It’s Nick’s number. I told him I would give it to him as soon as I got here."

"What the fuck?" 

Was Gallagher really stopping him for that shit? I mean c’mon.

_COME THE FUCK ON!_

"Just un-cuff me please." Ian said smiling. "I promise I’ll be right back." 

Mickey bit Ian’s bottom lip again, and then reached for the small silver key that would release him. He was letting him go for now, but Gallagher would definitely be making this shit up later.

"Hurry the fuck up." 

"Yes sir." Ian said, smirking and pulling his pants back on (skipping the unnecessary article of clothing that went on before the khakis).

As the redhead moved to re-clothe himself, his large muscles would involuntarily flex with each of the movements he made. His big arms bulged fuller as he fastened his pants’ zipper, and after bending over to retrieve his shirt, his flat abdominal muscles defined themselves in a more uniform pattern. 

"You’re so sexy Gallagher." Mickey moaned, stretching his legs out across the bed and stroking the shaft of his hard cock.

Ian could only bashfully smile when Mickey complimented him like that. He turned from his boyfriend with the piece of paper that had Nick’s number written on it, and then turned back around before he’d reached the narrow doorway.

"Ummm, where is he?" Ian asked, like Mickey knew something he didn’t.

Gallagher couldn’t’ve been talking about the fucking kid, he’d walked right past him.

"Where’s who?" 

"Casper." Ian answered like Mickey was stupid.

"He should be out there on the couch." Mickey responded, releasing the hold he had on his dick. 

"Na, he’s not there." Ian said simply.

"What?" Mickey questioned, getting up out of the bed. "He was just fucking sleep." 

The older boy too put clothes on, and then both Ian and Mickey headed into the darkness of the living room. The couch was empty, exactly as Ian had reported, but Mickey knew Casper couldn’t’ve gone far. He was certain he hadn’t heard the front door open or close until Ian arrived home, and the kid had laid down the same time Lip and Mandy went to bed. 

Time for a fucking scavenger hunt.

Maybe he was tired of sleeping on this bullshit couch, and decided to crash in Terry’s old room? 

Nope, not there.

Uhhh, maybe he was having a sleepover with the only other couple in the house? 

Na, not there either. 

And Jesus, Mandy should really consider covering her tits at night. Mickey had _for sure_ seen those things enough in his lifetime.

"Pfff, fucking C-cup." He mumbled, closing her door.

"I looked in your dad’s old room, he’s not in there." Ian said whispering.

"Yeah, he’s not in there either." 

Ian paused, trying to think of any spots they might’ve missed.

"Did you check Iggy and Joey’s room?" 

"Uhhh?" Mickey whispered.

He hadn’t thought about that, but it did make sense for the kid to go crash in there. Joey had been staying with his girl for awhile, and who the fuck knew when Iggy Milkovich was gonna be home, (or where the Hell he would disappear to for that matter). Their room was probably empty, but it was also the farthest one down the Milkovich hallway; so if Casper did go in there, the possibility Mickey hadn’t heard him was reasonably high.

As the two boys made their way to the end of the hall, Ian kept grabbing Mickey’s ass through his boxers, and Mickey kept turning back to slap Ian’s hand away. They were trying to be quiet (because Mandy had school in the morning and was already asleep), but Gallagher was making it impossible with his big, groping hands.

"Just hold on." Mickey laughed, trying to maintain a whisper. "You’re the one wanted to give this shit to the kid." 

As Mickey wrapped his fingers around Iggy’s loose doorknob, Ian savagely grabbed an entire handful of his firm ass. The force of his touch caused Mickey to lose his balance and fall against the door, pushing it half-way open, and stumbling a few paces into the doorway of his older brother’s room.

Ian was shocked. 

And Mickey burst into laughter. 

Was Iggy really _sucking_ the kid off?

"Shut the fuck up." He said, still laughing in disbelief.

The humor in being caught had finally occurred to Mickey for two reasons. 

1\. He wasn’t the one being interrupted this time around. 

2\. He hadn’t just walked-in on someone he loved breaking his fucking heart.

They had found Casper. 

He was sitting up on the edge of Iggy’s bed, his head slightly thrown back, and his pretty brown eyes were shut tight. 

To Mickey’s surprise, his brother had been home this whole time. And what was even more surprising, was what the fuck Iggy was doing. 

What the fuck Iggy was doing to _Casper._

"Oh shit." The kid cursed, opening his brown eyes.

"Get the fuck out!" Iggy yelled, removing Casper’s dick from his mouth. 

As he followed his older brother’s instructions and backed out of the room, all Mickey could do was laugh. 

Like, what the fuck was going on? 

Casper + Iggy ?

Iggy x Casper ?

It was so out of left field, so fucking unexpected. 

So **_hilariously_** ironic. 

"What the fuck?" Ian questioned, his voice low and still shocked.

Mickey just started laughing harder, as something more ironic popped into his amused, manic mind. 

"Guess the kid won’t be needing Nick’s number." 

To Be Continued…


	28. What's My Name? (Say It!)

11:11 p.m.

"Is he sleep?"

"Yeah, I think so…everybody’s in their rooms." 

Iggy tilted his head left, motioning Casper into his quiet bedroom. 

He and the kid had spent last night together, talking about whatever popped into their minds. After Casper laid out everything that happened between him and Mickey, Iggy had gotten pretty pissed off. He’d asked what exactly was on the videotape the kid’s dad had found, and that’s when the entire story unfolded; Casper’s first time with Mickey, and Mickey showing up to his party, and Ian breaking up with Mickey. The shit was frustrating because everything had revolved around one person. 

_Mickey._

His little brother was a fucking shit-starter, for real. Iggy had warned his dumbass to not mess around with any other guy, and not only did he fuck the kid, but Mickey fucked the kid, left the kid, cheated on his own dude, and then kept lying about everything.

The fuck was that about? 

Him and Gallagher seemed like the perfect match, and this Casper kid was way to special to do that to. This kid’s entire world got turned upside down because of the bullshit of somebody who didn’t even love him back. He unknowingly sacrificed everything, and was robbed of the only life he knew, and for what? 

For Mickey? 

For _this?_

Iggy was glad his little brother had been such a douche though. He was glad Mickey had done everything he did to Casper, and he was especially glad the kid had almost burned his fucking house down; otherwise, the two of them would’ve probably never met. 

What if it was fate? What if all the shit had happened for a reason? What if that dark tunnel Casper had been treading down _did_ have light at the end of it? 

And what if that light was Iggy Milkovich?

"So what’s up kid, what’d you and Mick do all day?" 

Casper set his bag on Joey’s bed, and began removing various items from it. He wondered why Iggy was still calling him “kid,” but he let it slide for now. 

"He slept most of the day. We went to the store to get me some shit for this," he answered, pointing near his eye, "and then just chilled here." 

"Oh okay."

It sounded innocent enough, and Iggy was pretty sure Mickey didn’t suspect anything. It wasn’t his business that the kid had stayed in Joey’s bed, or that they’d spent the night talking until the sun came up. But just as a precaution, Casper had snuck back to the couch before Mandy left for school. Iggy heard her talking to Lip, saying how Ian and Mickey weren’t even home, so he knew they were in the clear. 

But in the clear from what? They had only been talking.

Just…talking.

"So where exactly did _you_ disappear to all damn day?” 

"Ha!" Iggy laughed. "That’s none of your fucking business kid." 

Casper smiled and then rolled his eyes. He’d missed hearing Iggy’s raspy voice all afternoon, even if it was still calling him _that_ word. 

"Whatever, it’s my business if I say it is." 

"Oh yeah?" Iggy asked smiling too.

There it was again, that smartass mouth that made the kid who he was. That was the intriguing thing about Casper, he could keep up with you. 

Keep you interested.

"Yeah." He answered smirking. 

As Iggy leaned over to his nightstand to retrieve and light a cigarette, Casper had begun removing the cap from the tube of ointment that would help assist the healing process of his scratched face.

The kid probably did look a lot more presentable without the cut, but Iggy thought it made him look good. 

He thought it made him look _better._

"Yo, you shouldn’t put that stuff on it." He suggested, exhaling smoke.

"What?" 

"Hell yeah kid, that scar would be badass. Toughen ya lil pretty face up." 

Casper was almost sure Iggy was flirting with him. That look on his face and the way he’d said it, reminded the kid of the first time he met Mickey; blinded by the older boy’s masculinity, but confident he wasn’t imagining the mutual attraction. 

But what the fuck? Why was Iggy still calling him that? It made Casper feel like the older boy didn’t know him. 

Didn’t _care_ to know him.

"What?" Iggy asked, observing the disappointed look on Casper’s face.

"I told you, that’s not my name." 

"Whatever kid." Iggy responded laughing. "You’re name’s a fucking mouthful…like the stupidest name I’ve ever heard." 

"Fuck you." Casper joked, his smile returning to his face. 

How could he not smile with Iggy flirting like that? And at least his older crush knew his name. 

Wether he liked ~~using~~ it or not.

"Fuck you too." The older boy responded, biting his bottom lip.

Casper broke eye-contact with Iggy then. His enticing voice and cool blue eyes were already so sexy, but seeing him bite down on his lower lip was just too much for the kid to keep staring at. Because Iggy had suggested it, the younger boy threw the tube of medicine onto Joey’s bed (without first using it), and then lifted his short-sleeved shirt off to change, before lying down.

"Sfff ahhh." He moaned in pain, as he extended his wounded torso up. 

The bruise in the middle of Casper’s abdomen had gotten worse since last night. It’s reddish-gray color had deepened, and he felt this same bullshit pain whenever he moved his upper body in a specific way. He’d kept ice on it all day, but figured it would just take some time to heal.

"Damn kid, that shit looks bad." 

"I know right, it fucking hurts."

Iggy got up from his bed and walked closer to Casper, his blue eyes fixated on the discoloration covering the kid’s flat stomach muscles. 

Or maybe he was just checking Casper’s body out? 

Maybe Iggy had never looked at another guy’s body the way he was looking at Casper’s? 

"You already iced it right?" 

"Yeah, shit barely helped."

"You’re suppose to massage it. Makes the blood flow or some shit."

"Hmmm?" Casper said smiling (his mind was always in the gutter).

Iggy laughed at the kid’s response, and moved to put his cigarette out. He then walked back over to where Casper was standing, to show the kid better than he could tell him. 

Iggy Milkovich had, had his fair share of bruises and knew the proper remedies for them; but was he about to help Casper for _Casper,_ or was he helping him for Iggy?

Whatever, he was helping them both.

"Here, lemme show you." 

Iggy inserted his left index finger into the side loop of Casper’s blue jeans to pull the boy closer to him. They were standing face to face, and because Casper was only a centimeter or two shorter, eye to eye. Iggy reached his right hand down in-between them, and began massaging the tender area around Casper’s bruise. The older boy was using his ring and middle fingers to lightly circle the kid’s contusion, giving Casper’s body _exactly_ the relief it needed.

"Sfff mmmm." The kid moaned, his brown eyes shutting close. 

"That feel good?"

Casper sluggishly shook his head “yes” in response, his mouth now unable to voice actual words. 

As the older boy continued rubbing the kid’s stomach, he could feel Casper’s abdominal muscles tighten beneath his fingers, (and it was strange because of how **hard** they actually were). Iggy was never much of the workout type, and he had never had a reason to touch some dude’s six pack, so the feeling of Casper’s muscles were kind of… _new._

He looked down and saw the precise way each cut of the kid’s body led to another, and it got his mind racing. All his life he was so used the soft bodies of females, and although Casper’s build was the _complete_ opposite, it was still turning Iggy on in the same way a girl’s would. He knew what a pair of tits felt like though and he definitely knew all about a girl’s ass, but he had never felt another guy up, and honestly; he never fucking wanted to.

Iggy wanted to feel _Casper._

This kid wasn’t just another guy.

"What are you-"

"Shhh"

Casper had opened his eyes when he felt Iggy stop massaging his stomach, and lay his hand flat against his skin. The older boy slowly moved his hand up the length of Casper’s torso, running his touch over the kid’s abs and cupping Casper’s left pectoral muscle in his right hand. From his chest, Iggy continued his hand up and to the side, dragging his palm across Casper’s collarbone and feeling the strength of the kid’s left shoulder. If it wasn’t obvious before that the kid worked out, Iggy _definitely_ knew once he’d grabbed hold of Casper’s left arm. The back of it was hard, the side of it was hard, and his fucking biceps looked like he was flexing them (even though he was just standing there). Iggy was always pretty skinny, but he’d never noticed how out of shape he really was, until he had Casper half-naked in his bedroom.

"You work out?" He inquired with a smile, his raspy voice flirtatious.

Casper smirked and answered not asking a question, “You don’t.” 

Fucking smartass. 

"Maybe I should start?" Iggy laughed, inching his face closer to the younger boy’s.

Casper licked his lips as he replied, articulating the words in his same sarcastic tone.

"Maybe you should." 

Once Iggy’s nose was basically touching the kid’s, he stopped moving closer to him and began unbuckling Casper’s belt. Because they were so close, all the boy could feel was the air escaping from Iggy’s nose, brushing over his full lips. Everything Casper was seeing made him smile, and the only thing in the boy’s line of sight was the alluring Iggy Milkovich.

"Iggy?"

"Shhh." The older boy instructed again.

With his belt finally undone, Iggy unbuttoned the kid’s jeans and pulled them half-way down, exposing the boy’s black Emporio Armani boxer briefs. As he continued allowing Iggy to do as he pleased with him, Casper lifted the hand that wasn’t injured towards the older boy’s face. He kept it closed, and ran the back of his fingers against the brown facial hair covering his crush’s jawline. Iggy was still looking down as Casper opened his left hand to run his fingertips up the boy’s face and through his longer, darker brunette hair. The older boy then looked up into Casper’s pretty brown eyes, and knew the kid wanted to kiss.

Him too, huh?

Iggy lifted his right hand to Casper’s mouth and ran his thumb across the kid’s bottom lip. The older boy couldn’t help but smile feeling how _soft_ Casper’s lips were, and Iggy took extra care to not harm the wound still splitting his mouth’s left corner. 

There was something about this kid, something he was making Iggy feel. He didn’t know why, but it was like…he wanted to _know_ Casper; know everything about him. He wanted to _see_ Casper; see him every fucking day. And he wanted to _kiss_ Casper. 

Iggy wanted to kiss him right now.

With the kid’s left hand still playing in his hair, Iggy moved his right to grab hold at the back of Casper’s neck. Both boy’s faces slowly moved in closer, until each set of lips had finally met. From the start, their mouths began moving perfectly together, though they weren’t the perfect match. Casper’s lips were fuller and Iggy’s more firm, but when the two came together it was like magic. 

It was like **sex**. 

The older boy was mimicking the soft and gentle ways Casper’s lips were caressing his. They weren’t using their tongues and the kiss wasn’t wild, but Iggy fucking loved what he was doing. Each time their mouths would open to take a breath, he would use his two lips to lightly suck the kid’s bottom one, and then land a single peck on the soft surface, before repeating these actions with a new lungful of oxygen. 

Casper had started smiling through their kiss, making it kind of hard for Iggy to keep sucking on the kid’s larger bottom lip. 

"What?" He mumbled, keeping his face close to Casper’s.

"Is that your uh, your _dick_ touching my leg?”

Iggy looked down and began laughing, he hadn’t even noticed the large erection growing fuller beneath his plaid boxers. He grabbed hold of his young infatuate, and then planted another light kiss on the boy’s lips. 

"Look what you do to me kid."

Casper smiled and bit down on Iggy’s bottom lip, using his teeth’s grip to pull his crush closer to him. The younger boy then kissed his way around Iggy’s chin hair and up his hairy cheek, until his mouth was muttering a familiar dispute into his right ear. 

"That’s not my name." He whispered, licking from the cartilage to the older boy’s earlobe.

"Ahhh," Iggy moaned. "Fuck kid." 

Casper was kissing him in ways he’d never kissed before, and now the kid was sending chills up his spine he had _never_ in his life felt. The more time they spent together, the deeper Iggy was losing himself in Casper. He didn’t want to be found though, he liked being lost. Lost in Casper’s pretty brown eyes, and lost in the kid’s soft touch. 

But if he really expected Iggy to start using that idiotic name…

Casper would be wise to not hold his fucking breath. 

"I wanna hear you say it." He whispered in the same ear.

That’s where the kid messed up. 

Now that Iggy knew the one thing he wanted most, he’d be damned if he was gonna give in and let “Casper” have it now. 

"Say what?" Iggy asked, playing dumb and bringing the kid back face to face.

Casper lifted the older boy’s white tank-top over his head, leaving him with only one article of clothing to cover his lean, nearly naked figure.

"Say it." He demanded, pulling his jeans the rest of the way down and tossing them onto Iggy’s shirt.

The older boy had never heard Casper speak so aggressively, and that shit just turned him on more.

"Fucking make me." Iggy responded flirtatiously, sizing Casper up.

And that was where Iggy fucked up. 

I guess him seeing (and feeling) the kid’s muscles didn’t give him a true understanding of how _strong_ Casper really was, but he was definitely about to fucking find out.

Without hesitation, the younger boy lifted Iggy off of the ground and slung his lightweight body over his left shoulder. With his forearm pressed against the back of Iggy’s calves, Casper walked his crush over to his bed, and then threw him down like he weighed nothing. 

"Fuck kid!" Iggy laughed a little too loud. "Don’t be doing that shit!" 

Casper was standing in front of the darker-haired brunette, who was now sprawled out in the middle of his large bed. The kid pulled his overpriced underwear down in one quick movement, revealing his shaved cock and muscular upper thighs. 

"That’s not my name." He repeated again, his seductive tone sounding angrier than before.

Iggy stared hard at the perfection standing before him. His mind struggled to comprehend, while his heart was screaming it loud as fuck; Casper was _perfect._ There was no part of the kid’s body Iggy didn’t want to touch, and no part he wasn’t fantasizing his tongue was tasting. 

Where the fuck had this kid been all his life?

"Damn kid. Your shit’s bigger than I thought it’d be." 

Casper laughed to himself, had Iggy been thinking about his dick? He tried hiding his smile as quick as he could though, because he knew Iggy was still calling him “kid” on purpose. 

Whatever, Casper had hatched an _ingenious_ plan for that.

"I wanna see yours." He instructed, as he began lightly stroking his own cock.

Iggy smiled and scooted to the edge of his un-made bed. He stood up, keeping his eyes locked with Casper’s, and then proudly removed his striped boxer shorts.

The kid literally gasped at the first sight of Iggy’s cock. 

Like seriously, what the fuck? 

Maybe it was because the rest of Iggy was so skinny? Maybe it was a joke, and the thing was really just a fake? Or maybe Iggy really did have the biggest dick Casper had ever fucking seen. 

Like his younger brother’s, Iggy’s cock was profoundly full in it’s distance around; but unlike Mickey’s, Iggy’s full erection would measure out at a length of about nine inches (8 3/4 to be exact). Casper had noticed Iggy’s skin wasn’t as pale as Mickey’s either, but that was even more noticeable now judging by how tan his cock and balls were. There was a large vein running up the left side of his shaft that gradually made it’s way to the top, and disappeared somewhere beneath the mark of his cock’s two different color tones. And if that wasn’t enough to get Casper’s dick rock-hard, Iggy’s straight, brown patch of pubic hair that faded up into a treasure trail, and lightly extended to the soft hairs in the middle of his chest, probably would.

"Damn Iggy." Casper groaned, still in shock. "That thing is fucking huge."

The older boy began using his right hand to stoke his growing boner, rubbing his cock from the base and not even reaching the tip.

"You like that shit kid? It’s not even all the way hard."

Casper nodded his head “yes” and took a step closer to the boy, pushing Iggy back and making him sit at the edge of his bed. 

"But that’s not my fucking name."

The lighter-haired boy dropped to his knees and began kissing his way up Iggy’s inner thigh, lightly pressing his lips against the sensitive region and using his tongue to help guide him. With the way his body was reacting, Casper could only imagine Iggy was enjoying what he was doing to him; but little did the kid know, Iggy had never received such sensual treatment.

Nobody had ever _cared_ about Iggy the way Casper did. 

"Goddamn kid." The older boy breathed heavily. 

He hadn’t even started getting his dick sucked, and already this shit felt better than any blowjob Iggy had ever received. 

"You’re gonna just keep calling me that, huh?" Casper asked, grabbing hold of Iggy’s cock with his right hand.

"That’s your fucking name." He answered smiling.

That was his last chance. 

And Iggy should’ve fucking taken it.

"Alright, we’ll see." Casper answered devilishly, and then ran his tongue up the side of Iggy’s cock. 

When he reached the top of the hard dick still in his right hand, Casper opened his mouth wide and took as much of it into his mouth as he could. His head began slowly moving up and down a little more than half of Iggy’s entire offering, while his right hand assisted him with the other half that (temporarily) couldn’t fit into his mouth. (The cut splitting his bottom lip hurt like shit, and there was no way he could deepthroat until after it was healed). 

"Ahhh fuck." Iggy breathed heavily, placing his left hand on the back of Casper’s neck.

The younger boy removed Iggy from his mouth and placed his right hand underneath his crush’s bent left leg. Casper pulled him slightly off of the bed’s edge (to get a better angle of Iggy’s asshole), and began slowing working his tongue downward. 

"Nuh uh kid, I ain’t ever-" 

"Be quiet." Casper instructed, like he was a fucking middle-school math teacher.

Before Iggy could begin protesting again, his mouth was too busy trying to keep his moaning to a minimum. Casper had begun using his tongue in an up-and-down motion, licking the exterior of his tight asshole, (yet another sensation Iggy had never felt until tonight). It tickled like Hell, but felt so fucking good, that Iggy didn’t know what else to do but moan. 

"Mmmm fuckkk." He cried out, his hands grabbing hold of his bed sheets.

Casper then placed his middle finger into his mouth to wet it, and began using his fingertip in place of his tongue. He allowed Iggy’s left leg to drop back down, but still kept the end of his finger between the older boy’s ass. 

"You’re fucking wild kid."

Casper just smiled to himself.

He was glad Iggy was still calling him that, because he knew he was about to get him to say his name. 

His _real_ name. 

The younger boy started working his way back up Iggy’s cock, sucking on his balls and licking up the back of his shaft. Casper’s middle finger was still playing with Iggy’s hole, as he took him back into his mouth and again pleasured the boy’s monstrous erection. 

"Ahhh, ahhh…" Iggy moaned lazily. 

Casper looked up and saw Iggy’s eyes were closed, and knew it was the perfect time to do what he’d been thinking. He knew it was the perfect time to make Iggy _scream_ his name. 

"Iggy…" Casper started. 

The kid got scared for a minute, because he knew his plan could be fucking suicide; but he figured if Iggy felt the way he thought he did, he’d find the humor in it somehow.

_Hopefully._

"Yeah?" He asked, opening his eyes.

"What’s my name?" The kid questioned, shoving the tip of his middle finger into Iggy’s asshole.

The older boy bit down on his fist, trying his best to keep anyone in the house from hearing him cry out. 

"Sfff fuckkk kiddd!" 

"What’s my name?" Casper repeated with a smile. 

The kid thought this shit was funny? And more importantly, he thought he could make Iggy give in just like that?

Fuck him. 

Though the pain was next to unbearable, Iggy refused to give Casper what it was he wanted. It was bad enough the kid could pick him up and throw him around, Iggy wasn’t gonna let Casper punk him into saying his name too. 

"Ahhh fuckkk _youuuuuuu._ " Iggy cursed through a clenched jaw. 

"Say it!" Casper demanded, pushing his longest finger in further. 

"Mmmm, shit kid!"

Still nothing? 

"What’s my name?" He questioned again.

"FUCK YOU!" 

Iggy was handling this better than Casper had anticipated, so it was time to up the ante.

The younger boy spit where his middle finger met at the rim of Iggy’s asshole, and slowly began moving it in-and-out (without ever completely exiting). Iggy’s ass was clenched tight around Casper’s finger, because he didn’t know the proper way to relax when it came to getting fingered. He’d tried running away, but Casper had a strong grip on his lower back, making it fucking impossible for Iggy to move.

"Okay kid, _okay!_ " He pleaded.

"What’s my name?" Casper asked a final time. "Say it!" 

Iggy paused for a moment. 

The kid’s finger wasn’t hurting him as bad as it had initially, and he was confident he could figure out some way to break free of Casper’s hold. Sometime during his thought process though, the kid must’ve grown impatient, because before Iggy could do as instructed (or break free), Casper began finger-fucking his tight little hole, even faster. 

"Mmmm, mmmm, ahhh, fuck…" 

Iggy couldn’t take it anymore. 

"…Casper!" He finally moaned out. 

The kid smiled, and then didn’t stop fingering him. “What’d you say?”

"FUCK, CASPER! YOUR FUCKING NAME IS CASPER!!!" 

"Good." He answered standing up. "Now it’s your turn to suck _my_ dick.”

The older boy had started respiring faster than normal, so he needed to catch his breath before he’d be able to put _anything_ into his mouth. Casper leaned over and began kissing Iggy’s neck, sucking near his throat and tasting the salty sweat exuding from his pores. Once Iggy had finally started breathing normal, he used both his hands to grab hold of Casper’s face and began kissing the kid again. As their mouths opened and tongues swirled each other’s, Iggy slowly leaned up until both boys were standing on their feet. 

"I ain’t ever done this shit, so don’t be mad if I’m not s’good as you." 

Casper planted a light kiss against Iggy’s lips, and then sat on the edge of the boy’s soft mattress. The fact that he’d never given another guy head only turned the kid on more, resulting in the form of an even harder boner. 

And even if it would be the worst head of the kid’s life, it’d _still_ be the fucking best. It would still be head from Iggy.

"Pretend it’s yours." Casper directed. "Show me how you like getting sucked off."

Iggy smiled to himself. He was kind of nervous because he didn’t exactly know how to start, but after hearing Casper speak, it made it easier for him. 

The older boy got down in front of the kid and grabbed hold of his hard cock. Iggy took a long minute to look it over, maneuvering Casper’s wood in all directions to get a better view of the thing. This kid really did pack a nice piece, but that wasn’t making Iggy’s job any easier. 

'Fuck it.' He thought to himself. 

And then he did it. 

Iggy opened his mouth wide, and he fucking did it. 

"Mmmm…ahhh." Casper moaned. 

After the first stroke of his head, Iggy hadn’t stopped moving his mouth up-and-down the length of Casper’s cock. He was breathing through his nose and using his right hand to hold the kid’s dick at the base. To Iggy’s surprise, sucking dick was not only easy; but it was pretty fucking fun. Getting to see Casper react the way he was, (and tickling the kid’s smooth balls) was the most entertaining thing Iggy had done all night. 

The boy on the receiving end of the blowjob smiled and bit his bottom lip, “You like it, huh?” 

Did Iggy like what, Casper’s dick? 

Hell yeah. 

What, did he like _sucking_ Casper’s dick? 

He sure did. 

Did Iggy like **everything** about Casper _including_ his dick? 

Most definitely. 

But was Iggy gonna let the fucking kid know? 

What do you think? 

"Just shut up and fucking cum for me…Casper." 

The kid smiled hearing his crush voice his name so naturally. 

Casper then used his right hand to grab a handful of the brown hair at the back of Iggy’s head. He leaned down, pulling the older boy’s face up towards his and diving his wet tongue into Iggy’s mouth. Their lips parted and met again, and then Casper used the grip he had on Iggy’s hair to force the boy back down. 

Iggy had started blowing Casper like he wanted him to cum, using his right hand to simultaneously stroke the cock he was sucking. The kid’s head was slightly thrown back, his pretty brown eyes were shut tight, and Casper could feel his balls growing tighter. 

He could feel his orgasm growing nearer.

"Oh shit." He moaned. "Ahhh, don’t stop…"

Iggy had no problem doing as he was told. He kind of liked how bossy and aggressive Casper had gotten, because he knew it was the result of him making the kid feel the way he did. He knew it was because of how _comfortable_ they were with each other. 

And all Iggy needed was Casper.

When it was just the two of them, nothing else mattered. Not this evil world they lived in, not the ignorant society who would never understand them, and not any of the bullshit that had brought them together.

_Nothing._

Well what about Mickey Milkovich interrupting them with his loud laughter, you ask?

Nope, that shit didn’t matter either.

"Shut the fuck up." He exclaimed, still laughing hysterically.

"Oh shit." Casper cursed opening his eyes, surprised to see both Mickey and Ian at the doorway.

"Get the fuck out!" Iggy yelled at his intruding little brother. 

As the younger Milkovich exited the room, and the two boys left inside of it looked at each other, they began laughing as hard as Mickey had been. 

Maybe even harder.

Who cared they’d been caught, which one of them honestly gave a fuck? Casper made Iggy _happy,_ and the older boy had the same effect on the kid, so why not just say it already?

Just fucking say it already!

"I really like you kid." Iggy admitted with a smile, his right hand’s grip returning to Casper’s still-hard cock. 

Had Iggy purposely called him that to get a reaction out of him? Maybe he was secretly hoping Casper would shove his finger back into his hairy asshole? Maybe Iggy was willing to try more than just a finger this time? 

Who knew? 

Casper didn’t, but he had plenty of time to figure it out. 

He would have all the time in the world to know Iggy better…but he knew _exactly_ how to respond to his future boyfriend now. 

"I really like you too, _kid._ ”

To Be Continued…


	29. World's Worst Babysitter.

Two weeks had passed since Casper first started staying at the Milkovich house, and everything with him and Iggy was going smooth. He had started going back to school every morning (there was no sense in fucking up his last three months), but spent the rest of his free time on the South Side. The kid’s dad had called to apologize for being such a dick, and bought him a new car to show how sorry he really was. At first Casper didn’t want to take anything from him, but after the man agreed to let Iggy beat the shit out of him for what he’d done to his son, he was more than happy to accept the brand new red-and-black Audi R8 V10 convertible. 

"It took you long enough." Casper joked, tossing his backpack into the backseat. 

"Fuck off, I’m like five minutes late. That traffic getting up here was a bitch." 

Usually the kid would’ve driven himself to school, but Iggy’s car was in the shop (courtesy of Mr. Duncan Sr.,) getting all the repairs it needed, and a few luxury ones it didn’t.

"I missed you." Casper raved, kissing the older boy’s lips and closing his passenger door shut. 

"Missed you too punk." Iggy responded smiling. "You don’t wanna drive ya fancy new car?" 

"You know the way better than I do." 

"Yeah, I drive better than you too." 

Casper laughed, causing his pretty brown eyes to squint and his deep dimples to become more pronounced.

"Ha! Whatever man, just get us the fuck outta here." 

As the two boys drove South towards the Milkovich house, both of them couldn’t stop smiling, and neither of them could keep their hands to themselves. Iggy’s right was holding onto Casper’s thigh through his light pair of blue jeans, while the kid’s left four fingers were rested against the back of Iggy’s neck with his thumb caressing the older boy’s brown facial hair. They had been pretty much inseparable for the last couple weeks, and everyone was honestly happy with them being together. 

That was, after the fucking shock wore off. 

"So what’d you learn in school today?" Iggy asked playfully.

"Really, it was just more bullshit about applying for college." 

The older boy turned his attention from the road in front of him to look Casper in his light brown eyes. 

"You’re not thinking of going somewhere far are you?" 

The kid smirked hearing the anxious tone of Iggy’s voice, “Maybe.” 

"That’s fucking stupid." He snapped, releasing his hold of the younger boy’s thigh.

Casper unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned in closer to Iggy. He stopped when his face was met with the older boy’s cheek, and began pressing his full lips against the scratchy surface until his mouth reached the side of Iggy’s. 

"I’m just playing." 

"That shit’s not funny." He responded, keeping his attention straight ahead. 

"You mad?" Casper teased, licking the boy’s right earlobe.

He knew what playing with Iggy’s ears did to him, (a body part both boys recently discovered got the older turned the fuck on). 

"Mmmm." Iggy moaned, his smile returning to his face. "I’m tryna drive here CJ." 

Oh yeah, after the kid had finger-raped him and then fucked him in his ass for the first time, Iggy had decided on a new nickname for Casper. The boy was adamant that “kid” wasn’t gonna fly as his pet name, (and Iggy refused to fucking call him Caz, a name given to him by Mickey), so after a few drinks and a little more information about him; CJ was declared the winning title, which abbreviated to “J” depending on the mood or situation. Iggy thought it was sexy, and it was _definitely_ a whole lot easier to say. 

Casper Duncan Jr., CJ, get it?

"Nobody said stop driving." 

"I know." Iggy laughed. "You’re just making it real fucking hard." 

Casper reached his right hand down between the older boy’s legs and ran his hand up Iggy’s black basketball shorts. He pressed his lips against the boy’s neck this time, and then used his index finger to tickle the head of Iggy’s large, semi-hard cock.

"Sfff fuck." He moaned a second time.

"Tell me to quit, and I will." 

The older boy reached to adjust the driver seat further back from the steering wheel, and then used his right hand to pull his growing dick out from beneath the mesh shorts concealing it. 

"If we die, it’s your fault." 

"Well," Casper laughed, taking hold of Iggy’s third leg with his hand, "it’ll be worth it." 

Now that his mouth was completely healed, Casper was able to go deeper when it came to sucking Iggy off. He couldn’t reach all the way to his balls, but he got pretty damn close (and he looked fucking sexy doing it). Iggy had hold of the wheel with his left hand, and his right was placed on the back of the kid’s soft brown hair. He wasn’t really guiding Casper up-and-down his shaft, the feel of boy was just making his long dick harder. 

"Fucking spit on it." Iggy instructed, as he pulled up to a red light. 

Casper lifted his head up until his lips were hovering about six inches above the slick head of the dick he was sucking. He gracefully allowed a line of salvia to extend from his mouth and run down the front of Iggy’s cock, while his right hand began massaging the slimy spit into the older boy’s massive boner. With the hand still placed on the back of Casper’s head, Iggy guided the boy towards him for a quick kiss (before the fucking light changed again), and then forced the boy’s open mouth to begin sucking both his balls. 

"Ahhh, fuck this." He moaned. "I gotta pull over." 

"Good thing these windows are tinted." Casper joked. 

The older boy smiled as he parked the new Audi in the back of an almost-empty, pharmacy parking lot. 

"I wouldn’t give a fuck if they weren’t."

As soon as the kid’s car was in park, Iggy was out of the driver seat and straddling Casper in the passenger. He’d removed his shorts and boxers, leaving him with nothing but his white tube socks and tank-top on. With his bony knees pressed into the leather cushion on the outer sides of both Casper’s thighs, Iggy grabbed hold of the boy’s face and began softly pressing their lips together. He’d learned how his young lover liked to be kissed, and it taught him that a slow kiss could _sometimes_ be even hotter than a sloppy one. 

"Pull your fucking dick out." He demanded.

Casper looked up surprised, “We never tried it with you on top.” 

Iggy pulled at the boy’s bottom lip with his teeth, and smirked as he answered mirroring Casper’s (notorious) sarcastic tone of voice.

"And we never will, if you don’t do what the fuck I said." 

The kid smiled showing both his dimples, how’d he get so lucky to end up with this guy? 

After the first time Casper had fucked him, bottoming had become both easier and more enjoyable for Iggy. They talked about relaxing, and he thought the proper cleaning techniques were fucking hilarious. The kid made it real nice for his first time too, opening him up with his fingers and taking everything super slow. He had Mickey to thank for his expertise with virgins, but there was no way in Hell he was gonna let Iggy know that, (Casper could sense how jealous the boy got when it came to the subject of his younger brother).

And when it came to Iggy fucking Casper, things were a bit… _wilder._

The kid hadn’t been fucked since his first time with Mickey, but once they’d got started, that fact was hardly recognizable. Casper had been missing that warm distinct feeling, that certain itch getting scratched, his fucking asshole being brutally pounded; so soon after he’d grown accustomed to Iggy’s excessive size, the rough possibilities of love to make became endless.

Iggy couldn’t remember ever cumming so hard (truly the best busted nut of his lifetime), and Casper was pretty sure he’d fallen for _another_ fucking Milkovich…but little did the kid know, he wasn’t falling alone. 

Not this time.

"You know, for you to be so skinny your ass is still pretty soft." 

Iggy burst into laughter, as Casper continued slapping his hard dick against the older boy’s asscheeks.

"Fuck you, ya lil punk." He cursed still laughing. "I’m not even that skinny." 

"Ha! Bullshit you’re not." 

The older boy looked deep into Casper’s brown eyes, and then shifted his gaze as he began blushing. He had just never had this type of connection with anybody, and it felt so fucking good whenever they were together. 

Whenever Iggy was with his CJ.

"C’mon, let’s make this shit quick." He instructed, reaching for the travel-size bottle of lube. "This car is small as fuck." 

Observing Iggy retrieve the plastic receptacle, made the kid flash his bright smile and start to wonder. 

"Did you plan this?"

"Na," Iggy answered laughing. "Gotta stay prepared though." 

The younger boy extended his neck up to kiss the older’s lips, and after Iggy had finished slicking his own hole, used the lubricant to prepare his calmly waiting cock. 

"Can’t get enough of me, huh?" 

The kid’s dimples made the older boy start blushing again, and he couldn’t even tell the cocky bastard to fuck off. 

"I know." Casper continued, grabbing hold of Iggy’s waist. "I feel the same way." 

With his left hand still holding onto him, Casper began using his right to resume slapping his boner against Iggy’s butt, but this time more towards the middle (to feel the ticklish hairs lining the crack of his ass). The older boy responded by lifting both his large feet up onto the seat in place of his kneecaps, and grabbing a steady hold of Casper’s hard dick with his hand. 

Iggy had, had enough of the juvenile teasing, and was ready to get fucked.

He took a long calming breath, and then slowly began lowering his body closer to the throbbing extension of Casper’s. Once he felt the tip of the kid’s cock gracing the outer warmth of his wet asshole, Iggy dropped down lower, placing a little more than the head of his lover’s smooth penis inside himself.

"Ahhh." He breathed deep, inhaling through his nose and out through the mouth. 

Starting up was always the most annoying part, but Iggy had gotten pretty used to the burn (only because he knew what sort of pleasure came quickly afterward). With his left hand still holding the kid’s dick and his right gripping Casper’s shoulder for balance, the older boy allowed more of the cock that was intruding his asshole, to tread deeper within him. As he began slowly using his bent legs to maneuver himself up-and-down the majority of Casper’s dick, Iggy could feel his hole begin to accept the unpleasant intrusion; and with the painful heat of penetration switching to warm alleviation, he began riding the only cock he ever would, faster. 

"Mmmm, fuck Iggy." The kid moaned, feeling the tightness wrapped around his lengthy unit.

With his body now balanced, the older boy used both hands to grab hold of Casper’s face and move in to kiss his full lips. Their playful tongues began messily circling each other’s, while Iggy continued using the strength of his thin legs to vertically ride the boy’s long shaft.

"Your dick feels so good J." 

"How good?" He responded biting his lower lip, his soft voice sounding seductive. 

Iggy smiled. 

Though he’d carelessly moaned it out, he wasn’t expecting that sort of (sexy) retort. He adored how _sweet-natured_ Casper truly was, but he fucking loved how **aggressive** the kid could get.

Fucking loved it. 

"Real fuckin’ good." 

"Shit, I can tell. Yours hasn’t even gone down." 

Iggy began laughing and moved his right hand to grab hold of the everlasting erection between his legs. His cock had been pointing straight out (but still had a slight limp because of it’s weight) the entire time, and as he lifted up off the kid’s dick to resume getting his sucked, Iggy lost his balance and _accidentally_ poked Casper in his left eyeball. 

"Ow, fuck!" The kid laughed. "Would you fucking watch that thing?!"

Oops.

While Casper helped guide the extensive entity to where it had initially meant to be placed, Iggy began chuckling harder than he had been before. 

"My bad CJ, it’s this fucking car." 

"Mhmmm." He responded mumbling, his mouth now full of hard cock. 

Iggy placed his left hand on the back of the younger boy’s brown-haired head. He slowly closed his icy blue eyes and began moaning softly, feeling how adept Casper’s soft lips were massaging the surface of his shaft. That, coupled with the kid’s wet tongue running along the underside and his deep throat repeatedly welcoming Iggy’s boner in, was proficient enough to make the older boy cum with just a few more stokes of his neck. 

"Ahhhhhhh." He moaned lazily.

It could’ve been because the costly vehicle was so quiet (other than the A/C vents roaring and the sound of someone getting sucked off), but although Iggy was expecting to blow his fucking load any minute, Casper’s laughing voice suddenly echoed in the back of his mind; replaying something _pretty_ important he’d been asked earlier that day. 

Asked by his little brother. 

"Oh fuck!" He yelled panicked, hopping into the driver seat and not bothering to re-dress himself. 

Casper was confused as shit.

"What is it?" 

Iggy answered throwing the car into reverse and peering over his right shoulder, his raspy voice sounding scrambled. “That fucking kid.” 

Casper was _still_ confused as shit.

"What?" 

"Fucking Mick asked me to watch him!" Iggy explained. "Gallagher’s little brother…he had to fucking go to work, and I left him up when I came to pick you asleep." 

Wait. 

"I fucking left him sleep when I came to pick you up!" He corrected, shooting dangerously out of the paved parking lot. 

"Calm down." Casper instructed, using his four fingers to massage Iggy’s neck. "I’m sure he’s still sleeping." 

The little boy _did_ look pretty peaceful sprawled out on the couch; his small, dark brown eyes securely closed, and his right hand’s tiny fingers hidden away in the softness of his black, curly hair. But he’d left the little dude on the couch, the fucking COUCH! One wrong move could’ve affected the untainted kid forever. 

And Iggy would’ve never been able to forgive himself. 

"You think so?" He asked hopeful.

"Yeah." Casper answered reassuring him. "You haven’t even been gone that long." 

See…that was the thing about Iggy’s CJ; he was everything he needed, _whenever_ he needed him. The calm whenever he was going crazy, the lift if Earth’s weight ever became too loaded, and the cryptic lyrics of that dumb song he just didn’t fucking understand. He had been thinking it for a while, but now knew for certain.

Iggy was never (again) gonna live his life, without this kid right by his side. 

"Thank you." 

Casper’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

"You’re welcome." He responded, leaning in to kiss Iggy’s hairy cheek before he began smirking. 

"What?" The older boy asked, observing the devilish smile. 

Casper began jokingly shaking his head, with the sly grin still on his exquisite face.

"World’s worst babysitter." 

*238 Minutes Later*

The sun had started to go down, and though they were the only two in the Kash & Grab, Nick wasn’t talking to Ian. It had been like _forever_ since the redhead promised to give Casper his number, and when Nick asked him how the favor was going, he could tell Ian was lying about something. 

Fine, whatever, no big deal. 

But when Nick switched and asked for the boy’s number instead, Ian had totally recanted his original guarantee, and refused to do so (without even bothering to explain why). What the fuck was his problem? Nick had been so excited to hopefully get a chance to know Casper better, but he was shy and didn’t know how, and he thought Ian cared enough to help him. 

Guess he was fucking wrong.

"Nick, he’s like…seeing somebody." Ian finally explained, after a long period of silence. 

The older boy walked over to the front where the redhead was sitting behind the counter, but he didn’t change the pissed expression he had on his face. 

"Let _him_ tell me that.” Nick protested.

"I-I…I just can’t." 

It wasn’t that Ian didn’t want to help, he would’ve actually loved to see Nick happy, it just wasn’t his place to share information about Casper’s relationship (especially when he knew the person he was involved with was Iggy). It was unfair of him to break his promise to Nick, but it would be even more unfair for Ian to say something now, that could potentially corrupt that couple’s connection later.

Jesus, nobody had fucking died. 

Couldn’t Nick just let the shit go? 

"Fuck you." He spat in response, walking back towards the ATM. 

That answered Ian’s question. 

Before the redhead could respond, the front door of the building opened; and to his surprise, the boy backing into the Kash & Grab was his boyfriend. Mickey had his grey one-piece work uniform on, a tall ladder cradled in his left arm, and a long white box in his right hand. With all the shit he was carrying Ian could’ve gotten distracted, but it was immediately obvious he was missing something important.

His little brother _wasn’t_ with him. 

"What are you doin’ Mick, where’s Liam?" He asked confused. 

"Iggy’s watching him. I called and he said he’s fine. Mandy’s home now too." 

"Oh, okay." He responded more calm. "Good." 

Ian knew how much Liam liked Mandy, and the last thing he needed was to wind up at the fucking hospital tonight. Debbie and Fiona had gone on a weekend trip for one of Deb’s school things, and he was in charge of Liam until they got back. Mickey had originally been off today and was able to watch him, but getting called in last minute by his boss, he had no choice but to shift the responsibility onto Iggy’s plate. 

Great thinking Mickey. 

"Trahan, come help me with this shit." 

"What is all that stuff?" Ian inquired.

"Fucking Linda called me to change the dead bulbs. I was lost in fucking _The_ Home Depot for like twenty minutes.” 

As he walked over to assist Mickey, Nick’s face was still present with anger (and he didn’t laugh at the boy’s half-joke like he typically would). Observing him snatch the ladder from his arm and silently haul it to the back of a dimly lit isle, got Mickey wondering further. 

"The fuck’s wrong with him?" 

Ian answered thinking Nick couldn’t hear him, “He’s pissed ‘cuz I won’t give him Casper’s number.” 

"Fuck you!" He yelled across the store. "I’m pissed off because you said you were gonna do something and then didn’t!" 

Mickey grabbed a Snickers bar from the new pack on the shelf and began unwrapping it as he responded, his muscular body inching closer to Nick’s. 

"Calm down Trahan. You got all the dick you need right here." He joked, taking a bite of the candy. 

"Whatever Milkovich." Nick replied plainly.

Neither one of them was getting it, he wasn’t just looking for another quick fuck. It was starting to hurt him being around Ian and Mickey all the time, (occasionally getting to lay with them but never having anyone to call his own). He’d accepted the fact that he would never get to be with either of them, but that didn’t mean Nick didn’t deserve love too. 

Right?

"Can you just hold this thing still?" Mickey requested, positioning the legs of the old ladder. "It’s shaky as fuck." 

"Yeah." He obliged, his tone still sounding pissed. 

As Mickey worked his way up the steps, Nick began yelling at Ian again. The boy shouted at the redhead, telling him how much of a lying asshole he was, and how he thought they were better friends than that. He reminded Ian of how he didn’t hesitate letting him borrow his mom’s car when he needed to go to Lake Shore, and how stupid he was for letting the same kid who Mickey had cheated on him with, stay under the same fucking roof as them. 

But that’s where Mickey got kind of pissed off.

He understood why Nick was so angry, but he also knew why Ian couldn’t say anything. Jesus, what was the big damn deal? At the end of the day, it was still just a fucking phone number, still just _one_ boy. There was no reason for Nick to bring up shit that the two of them had already worked out (and confided him in on), and try stirring up more trouble out of it. So naturally with his temper rising, Mickey defended his boyfriend…and said something he probably didn’t mean. 

"Fuck, give it a rest! The fucking kid probably wouldn’t wanna hook-up with you no way!" 

"The fuck’s that suppose to mean?" Nick replied, looking up the ladder.

"You’ll let anybody fuck you dude! C’mon Trahan, if the kid don’t like you, he _don’t_ fucking like you!”

Nick’s entire expression changed, and Ian could see how hurt he was. 

It wasn’t like Casper even knew he liked him (or that Nick was gay for that matter), but with the malicious way Mickey had lied and said it, Nick had no choice but to believe him. Had he been telling Casper bad stuff about him? Had he painted the ugliest picture of Nick he possibly could? Did Mickey really feel a certain _negative_ way about him? 

Nick didn’t know, but he sure as Hell couldn’t stand there and hold that fucking ladder anymore. 

"Fuck you." He mumbled, his once angry voice cracking in agony.

He didn’t mean to, and he hadn’t even thought about it, but as Nick let the grip his hands had on the ladder go, Mickey suddenly lost his balance, and his body went violently crashing to the floor. 

"Nick!" Ian exclaimed, seeing the accident play like a movie before his eyes. 

The redhead darted from behind the counter, and both boys ran to where Mickey’s body was laid in the back of the store. His head had broken his fall on one of the bottom shelves, and he wasn’t fucking moving. The long glass lightbulb that was in his hand was now shattered all over the floor, and as Ian grabbed hold of Mickey’s pale face, he could feel the warm blood running from the back of his head. 

"I’m so sorry, I didn’t-"

Ian cut Nick off. 

He saw the shit was an accident, and there was no time to talk. No time to _think._ Not while Mickey was slowly bleeding out. 

Not while he was slowly ~~dying~~. 

"Just go get some fucking help!" 

To Be Continued…


	30. 2010?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this Chapter was originally 2 separate parts...so take a break if you need to! ;)

"What the fuck Gallagher?!" Mickey screeched, half disgusted and half completely shocked. 

"What?" He responded smirking. 

"Why the fuck would you do that?" 

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." 

"Why the fuck would you do _that?_ ”

Mickey was pissed observing what this little fucker had done. Like why would Gallagher do that shit? Why, why, fucking WHY?! And then the way he was smiling about it? 

What a little douchecunt. 

Ian’s long ass red hair was covering his forehead, but Mickey was pretty sure it was wrinkled; judging by the way his eyebrows were raised, and the corners of his stupid mouth were turned up without showing his teeth. They were in the walk-in cooler of the Kash & Grab, searching for a new box of _Slim-Jims_ for Mickey. The older boy had such a way with words, but Ian would’ve just said it was a bootycall. Now that Mickey had finally sucked him off, it wasn’t a big deal to go right for Firecrotch’s exceptionally long dick, but that was the thing…

Where the FUCK was ~~Mickey’s~~ Ian’s firecrotch? 

"Got tired of it." He answered simply, his sarcastic tone matching his mischievous mug. "Tried something new."

Mickey looked closer at the bare skin that was once covered with a beautiful (and perfectly trimmed) patch of red pubic hair, and became even more enraged. Yeah there were freckles there too that he had never seen, and yeah it made Ian’s big cock look that much bigger, but fuck that! Mickey called him Firecrotch for a reason, and without his _firecrotch,_ how could he be FIRECROTCH?! It wasn’t like he liked the soft reddish-brown hairs that lightened to a bright orange as they graduated from root-to-tip. And Mickey for sure hadn’t been wondering what _exactly_ Gallagher’s bush looked like for over a year now. 

That region of Ian’s body definitely didn’t mean a thing to Mickey Milkovich. 

"Don’t do that shit no more." He demanded. 

"Why do you care? It’s my fucking body." 

Mickey paused, did he fucking care?

Shit, “care” wasn’t the word he would’ve chosen. Gallagher knew what the fuck he was doing when he’d shaved, that’s why he had that stupid look on his face now (and Mickey fucking knew it). So was he gonna let the sly little fucker think he cared even two shits about _any_ part of his freckled frame? 

"If imma be the one sucking you off, you gotta do what the fuck I say." 

There, that sounded nonchalant enough. 

The tone of Mickey’s insistent voice transformed Ian’s devious smirk into a genuine smile, his crimson eyebrows remaining elevated beneath his hair. 

"Oh really?" 

"Hell yeah Gallagher…unless you want fucking Towelhead back on your shit." 

Ugh, the thought of Kash touching him (or anything sexual with him really) had Ian so turned off lately, he couldn’t bare to think about it. After he and Mickey had hooked up that first time, something switched in him. Something strange. Ian found he only wanted sex if it involved the rough Milkovich boy, and the basic sex with his usual older parter just didn’t fucking compare. 

Kash couldn’t make Ian _feel_ the way Mickey did. 

"I ain’t think so." The shorter boy spoke again, observing the repulsed look on Ian’s face. 

All the redhead could do was laugh, as Mickey forcefully pulled the boy’s jeans down by his ankles (his compressed trousers covering a portion of the older boy’s green scarf he’d tossed to the floor), and began playing with his semi-hard cock. 

"So if I grow it all back, what’chu gonna do for me?" Ian asked smiling. 

"Fuck you want Gallagher?" 

The younger boy’s face suddenly got serious. This was secretly what he’d hoped would happen all along, but now that it was here…he was too damn anxious to be fucking fearless. 

Ian wanted nothing more than to place his lips against the fuller set of Mickey’s. To taste and tongue the visibly soft surface, to suck and swirl in the warmth of his open mouth, to just fucking _kiss_ him already! He thought it would be an exchange the older boy would go for; his oral embrace for Ian’s pubic hair (a thing he knew Mickey found attractive, wether he’d admit it to him or not). But now that he had the chance…Ian couldn’t take it. He’d already been rejected once, and he didn’t want to keep bugging him about the same shit, so feeling a bit discouraged, all the redhead could do was pull out his best poker face. 

Ian returned the subtle smile to his lips, and then propositioned his future boyfriend with something a little more challenging. 

"Deepthroat it without choking." 

"Fuck off!" Mickey laughed. "Your shit gets long as fuck when it’s hard."

Ian smiled to himself, happy the older boy hadn’t suspected what was really on his mind. 

"That’s why it’s a favor." 

"Shit, I’ll try Gallagher…but I ain’t makin’ no promises." 

Mickey had attempted to take the entirety of Ian’s cock into his throat before (a task ending in him having to catch his fucking breath with his cold blue eyes turning a teary, bloodshot red). He figured swallowing the kid’s cock would be easier than kissing him though, and Gallagher had made it pretty obvious he wanted to kiss, licking his fucking lips and all. Mickey had considered trying it, but he just didn’t know how, and he didn’t even know where to begin. 

'Fuck that.' He thought to himself.

There was no way he could let Gallagher think he sucked at kissing. I mean c’mon, he was fucking older than Firecrotch! And ever since their first time, Mickey had been trying to sort of _impress_ Ian. 

Why? 

Who the fuck knows. Maybe it was to see that stupid smile on his face? Maybe it was to reassure him that although Ian was the one doing the fucking, Mickey was still boss? Who the fuck the knew? 

Whatever, Mickey liked impressing him. 

Deal with it. 

"Fine by me." Ian replied with a smile, pulling his right foot through the crumpled leg of his blue jeans. 

There it was, that stupid smile again. Mickey’s heart began melting a bit, but then swiftly solidified, because he knew his face had to remain stern. 

No gay emotions…

just _tons_ of gay sex. 

"I bet it is Gallagher." He answered with a half-smile. 

Mickey still had a hold of Ian’s dick, which had now grown pretty full. It wasn’t all the way hard, but Gallagher could definitely start using it like it was. With the redhead and his shaved cock waiting, the older boy took a long breath and was ready to try deepthroating again. But just as Mickey licked his bottom lip and began to kneel using his left knee, he heard a loud _beep!_

And then another beep!

And then another fucking **BEEP**!

"Gallagher, w-what is that?" He questioned, his eyes scanning the overhead of the large cooler.

When Ian didn’t respond, Mickey shifted his line of view back to the younger boy, dismayed to find him… _frozen?_ There was a layer of snow covering his red hair and shoulders, and a series of tiny icicles formed at the tip of his nose and curly eyelashes. 

"Gallagher." 

He didn’t move.

"Gallagher." 

He didn’t blink.

"Gallagher."

He didn’t breathe.

"GALLAGHER!"

Mickey opened his eyes.

"Gallagher?"

His head was heavy…and his mouth was dry…and as Mickey looked around, he discovered where that fucking beep was coming from. It was one of those heart machines with that line running across it, (beeping every second to assure the individual attached still obtained their fragile life). And judging by the wires and clear tubes, running from him to the various fluids and contraptions, Mickey was pretty sure he was in the hospital, and that the machine was beeping because of _his_ heartbeat. 

The thing he was unsure of?

Why the fuck was Ian Gallagher asleep in a chair next to this hospital bed? And why the FUCK was his head using Mickey’s right leg as a fucking pillow? 

"Mickey." The redhead muttered, his tired voice sounding excited. 

Ian stood up and moved closer to his reclined boyfriend. He reached both his hands out, grabbing hold of the older boy’s face in a usual manner, and tried leaning in for a kiss.

"Whoa." Mickey disapproved, his brain signaling to jerk his head back. "What the fuck Gallagher?"

Ian dropped his big hands to his side, completely taken back by Mickey’s reaction. The older boy seemed a lot more alert than he should’ve been, and it was Mickey who was the one usually trying to kiss him. 

"What?" Ian asked, genuinely confused. 

"The fuck you mean _what?_ Don’t fucking grab me like that.” 

As the two boys stared at each other, each of them couldn’t help but notice something _clearly_ different about the other. Gallagher had finally cut some of his fucking hair off, but that wasn’t the only reason Mickey was staring. Ian’s haircut couldn’t’ve made him look that much older, could it? Mickey didn’t remember his face looking like that, so matured.

Gallagher looked _older_ than he did. 

And as Ian gazed into the confused (and somewhat angry) blue eyes of Mickey, he couldn’t help but be reminded of a boy. 

A boy he thought died a long time ago. 

"The fuck you doin’ here anyway?" Mickey asked rudely, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the room he woke up in. "Am I in the fucking hospital?" 

The redhead’s bright green eyes hadn’t shifted from the older boy, and his protective eyelids had temporarily gone out of service. 

"The fuck you starin’ at?" 

"Nothing." Ian said, shaking his head and finally blinking. "Y-you don’t remember what happened?" 

The tone and hesitation of the boy’s voice got Mickey panicked, resulting in the worst possible thing he could think of popping into his head. 

"Oh shit, I didn’t crash the car did I?" He asked nervously, as he began fumbling with the wires on his arm. "My dad’s gonna be fucking pissed." 

Listening to him speak made Ian start staring at his boyfriend again. He knew Mickey, this was _his_ Mickey, and he could tell he wasn’t joking. The way he was carelessly carrying on, more concentrated on trying to unhook himself from the wires and clear tubes monitoring him, Ian knew something was wrong. There was no way he was joking, no way Mickey could _joke_ about the death of his father. 

"Mickey." 

"What?" He responded without looking up, his tattooed fingers still toying with the machine’s connective extensions. 

"Mickey…you’re dad is dead." 

Ian’s gentle tone of voice didn’t make him look up. Gallagher was obviously smoking somethin’ strong, and Mickey only had like two more of these _sticky wire pad things_ stuck to his fucking arm. 

"The fuck you talkin’ bout Gallagher?" 

Ian was growing more and more fearful observing the outcome of Mickey’s accident. Realization was beginning to set in, and he thought he might’ve seen this shit before (but only in like movies or on T.V.), Ian had no idea this shit could really happen…and happen to someone he loved. 

It was like, Mickey knew _who_ he was, and he definitely knew _where_ he was. 

He just didn’t know **_when_** he was. 

"Mickey, look at me." He instructed, his voice sounding sadder than before. "Mickey…what year is it?" 

The older boy’s face twisted into a puzzled expression, one that reminded Ian of how Carl would look after being addressed with a query he didn’t understand. 

"Kinda dumbass question is that? And what the fuck you mean my dad’s dead?" Mickey was tired of seeing Ian’s face, and even more tired of hearing his bullshit. "Get the fuck out Gallagher." 

The younger boy instinctively tried reaching his hands out (again) to grab hold of his boyfriend’s face. 

"Mick I’m serio-" 

"Don’t fucking touch me!" He interrupted, slapping the boy’s hands away. 

What the fuck had gotten into Firecrotch? 

Mickey had secretly wanted to fuck this kid for a while now, but he didn’t know if he was gay (and he honestly didn’t think he was). Shit, _was_ Gallagher a fucking fag? He sounded super gay whining about what year it was, and him trying to touch Mickey’s face  twice was even fucking gayer! But what had the older boy more thrown, was that fucking dream he dreamt. He’d had sex dreams about Ian Gallagher before, but not one like that. 

Not one that… _real._

It was almost as if he’d been outside his dreaming self, watching the two of them fornicate in the Kash & Grab’s cooler. Almost as if he knew what Ian was thinking the entire time they were together. And although he’d woken up…Mickey thought he knew what would’ve happened if Gallagher hadn’t suddenly started freezing over. 

The more he thought about it, the more he could _see_ it happening. 

"Mick please, what fucking year is it?" Ian asked more distressed.

Gallagher’s voice sounded desperate, and that was the second time he’d called him “Mick.” Only people close to him (really only his family) called Mickey that, so without thinking, he lightened up a bit. But Jesus fucking Christ, did Ian really need to know what year it was _that_ bad? 

"It’s twenty-ten Gallagher." He answered simply. "Everybody made a big fucking deal about the new decade, or whatever." He added for reassurance. 

"2010?" Ian repeated to himself.

The redhead’s mind began racing faster than it had ever been before. 

_Two thousand ten, two thousand ten, where the fuck were they in two thousand ten?_

"Fuck." He thought out loud, as certain memories of that year came flashing back. 

October, it was definitely October. 

They hadn’t even hooked up until the end of that year…and Mandy had lied to her brothers about him hurting her only a few weeks before that!

The entire situation was beginning to break Ian up more inside, because his clouded mind couldn’t help but follow the line of logic further…if Mickey thought it was two thousand ten, he wouldn’t remember hooking up with him; and if he didn’t remember hooking up with him, he wouldn’t remember falling in love with him; and if he couldn’t remembering falling in love with Ian, he wouldn’t even really know him. 

Mickey wouldn’t know _**them**_. 

"Yeah Gallagher _twenty-ten_ …now uh, go get a fucking nurse or somethin’.”

To Be Concluded…

"Mickey…what’s the last thing you remember?" 

"What’s with all these fucking questions Gallagher?" 

"Mickey please," Ian begged. "I’m serious!" 

With the way Gallagher had been talking to him, Mickey couldn’t help but feel kinda worried about what’d really happened to him. First Ian had been bullshiting about his dad dying, and then he’d started bitching about what year it was, and now Gallagher was asking about Mickey’s fucking memory? What the fuck? Ian was acting weird as shit, but Mickey still didn’t understand something even fucking weirder. 

Why the FUCK was _Ian Gallagher_ the one here? 

"Why the fuck are you here again Gallagher?" He asked for a second time, his tone sounding normal.

Ian didn’t respond. He looked down at his feet, unable to express _why_ exactly he was here. He knew that if he told Mickey they were dating, and he hadn’t left the hospital for the last two days because he was the love of his fucking life; he’d probably just get first cussed the fuck out, and then thrown the fuck out. 

So Ian just stared at his feet.

After about nine full seconds of watching Gallagher gaze at the fucking ground, Mickey asked a simpler question. “Where’s my dad?”

Four more seconds passed.

"Where’s Mandy?!" 

Mickey’s voice was growing angry and impatient, and that was the last thing Ian wanted happening. Feeling pressured, he couldn’t think of any better ways to say it; there were already so many emotions running through him.

"Mickey we…we live together." He finally spoke, his stumbling voice speaking low. 

"The fuck you talkin’ bout?" 

Maybe backing up the story would help him out?

"Mickey, you fell at the Kash & Grab and hit your head. You work there." Ian’s informing voice was slow and steady, his mind focused on keeping the both of them calm. "It’s not two thousand ten," he announced, shaking his head, "and…and your dad is dead…Mandy shot him."

"What?"

Mickey was starting to get pissed off. He was always down for a good prank and all, but this shit wasn’t funny anymore. What, Gallagher thought joking about his dad dying was funny? Why’d he keep fucking saying that? The fuck did he mean it wasn’t twenty-ten? It was just fucking New Year’s! And what the Hell…did Ian _really_ hit him to get him passed out? Mickey could feel a fucking bald spot in the back of his head. 

A bald spot, and _real_ sewn stitches.

"Is this a fucking joke Gallagher?" The older boy asked, maintaining his cool. "Just gimme back my clothes so I can go."

Ian didn’t understand why Mickey seemed so… _normal_. It wasn’t like his accident turned him into a fucking vegetable, and he obviously wasn’t the least bit drowsy. His boyfriend simply didn’t know what year it was. 

And it was breaking Ian down to watch. 

"Mickey I’m serious." The redhead pleaded, reaching for his iPhone and opening the calendar app. "Look Mick." 

"Don’t fucking call me that!" He spat at Ian, snatching the boy’s phone from him. 

Hearing that old disgusted tone in Mickey’s voice made Ian cringe, and the words he had spoken were like a fucking blow to the redhead’s chest. 

What else was he suppose to call him? 

As he observed the older boy’s hardened face stare at the screen of his cellphone, Ian couldn’t help but again be reminded of the Mickey he used to know; the Mickey who hated life, and the Mickey who had overcome it all. He didn’t want to keep thinking about that though, he couldn’t. 

The very thought was breaking Ian down further. 

"T-this don’t mean shit." Mickey protested, his voice sounding unsure. "You…you could’ve just set this shit yourself." 

"Mick." It was all Ian could say. 

It was like…everything they had worked for, everything they’d been through, the love that had almost killed them both…it all changed with the release of a fucking ladder. He just knew he could make Mickey remember though, all he had to do was let him know he knew him. Ian stopped fighting the tears welling inside himself, and began fighting for the love he knew was still there, fighting for the _Mickey_ he knew was still there.

He just had to make him remember.

"The hot water comes out of the cold knob in your bathroom shower." He noted, as if Mickey didn’t know how annoying that shit was for himself. "And you only use bar soap."

What the fuck? Had Gallagher been watching him fucking shower?

"What the fuck Gallagher, you been watching me fucking shower?" 

"Mick, we live toge-"

"Stop fucking calling me that!" He interrupted, his same demand sounding more demanding.

Ian just continued like he hadn’t been cut off, his mind desperately scrambling to think of more things only _he_ would know. 

"You’d eat a Snickers bar every morning for breakfast if I’d let you…y-you only use your left hand when you put gel in your hair…you play your radio loud as fuck whenever you get pissed off." 

Mickey’s blue eyes grew wide, and he couldn’t really think of anything else (but the lie he lived) to retort with. He didn’t know if Gallagher was telling the truth about the whole year thing, or about his dad being dead, but I mean seriously…how the fuck could Firecrotch know that? 

Mickey had _never_ let anyone actually see him ~~styling~~ doing his hair. 

"I ain’t no fuckin’ fag Gallagher." 

Ian kind of smiled, despite the fact that he was feeling like shit. It wasn’t because he thought what Mickey said was funny, but because he knew how amazing the love they made really was. Shit, nobody could fuck (or get fucked) like Mickey Milkovich. 

**_Nobody_**.

"Mickey, you…you love sex. You’re the one always tryna jump me." 

Ian’s grin couldn’t help but grow, thinking about the sex-addict tendencies of his boyfriend. The older’s boy face grew angry in response to Ian’s smiling one, but he didn’t say anything out loud…he kinda wanted to hear what Gallagher’s fag ass would say next about him. 

And he kinda couldn’t stop staring at Gallagher’s smile either. 

"Y-you like it when I kiss your neck, that shit drives you crazy." Ian’s voice was still sad, but he let out a light laugh thinking of it. "You’re always biting my bottom lip, pulling on it and shit." 

Mickey unthinkingly bit down at the right corner of his own lip. He’d always imagined that was a proper technique when kissing someone, he just didn’t know how hard to bite down, (or have anyone’s lip to practice on for that matter). But there was no way Gallagher knew what the fuck he was talking about, no fucking way. 

Did he? 

"You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about Gallagher." Mickey’s voice was calm because of his own racing mind, but his face was still frowned and angry.

"Mick…"

Ian could hear the change in his boyfriend’s tone, the willingness to listen; so he stopped for a moment, trying his best to think _smarter_. 

He waited. 

And thought.

And waited.

And thought.

And stared at Mickey. 

And thought.

And waited.

And then it finally fucking hit him. 

Mickey thought it was twenty-ten, right? So just tell him something that was true _back then_. 

Duh Ian!

"You’ve never kissed anybody before, right?" He asked smiling, his voice full of confidence.

Mickey could feel his pale face turn a bright shade of red, (and that same red shade turn more than a zillion shades redder). He couldn’t fucking respond, not to that. That was legit, the most embarrassing and well-kept secret Mickey Milkovich had, and there was no way Ian Gallagher could know it. NO FUCKING WAY! He didn’t like write it down in some gay ass journal, and he for sure had never told anyone that.

There was _NO WAY_ Gallagher could know that! 

But if he wasn’t convinced then that Ian hadn’t been lying, what the boy asked next, cleared all the doubt from Mickey’s clouded mind. 

"You’ve thought about kissing me, haven’t you? But you just don’t know how, and you’re scared you’re gonna suck at it." 

"Shut up!" Mickey shouted embarrassed, his bright red face turning from Ian’s, covered with realization. 

Gallagher wasn’t lying at all, he was telling the truth…about _everything_.

He had to be.

Mickey reached the index and middle fingers of his left hand up to the back of his head, and lightly ran them across the sensitivity of his stitched wound. His mind began replaying all the disregarded events Ian had provided him with, but this time, acknowledged them as being the truth. He had fallen, and he’d lost a portion of his memory. 

His dad was dead, and Mandy had shot him. 

And he and Ian… _lived_ together. 

There was no way he was gonna show it (especially in front of Gallagher), but Mickey was scared. Nothing was suppose to scare Mickey Milkovich. Shit nothing did scare Mickey, but that’s what he was, that’s what he fucking felt. 

_Scared_.

"W-what happened to my dad?" 

Ian swallowed, his mouth probably as dry as Mickey’s. He was relieved to see he’d at least gotten through to him. Mickey was believing him now, that counted for something.

Right?

"Your dad caught us together…beat the shit out of us…made you marry some Russian prostitute. He caught us again, but uh-" Ian stopped, parts of that night were still just a blur of fucking lines to him, and it wasn’t much fun thinking about either. "We don’t really know what happened ‘cuz we were passed out, but he caught us again, knocked us both unconscious. Mandy tried to help…he beat the shit out of her too. She shot him…it was an accident, but what else could she fucking do?"

Mickey just stared into Ian’s bright green eyes, completely dumbfounded. It sounded like something his father would do, and that _definitely_ sounded like his little sister. Hearing how it happened didn’t really phase Mickey right away though, the boy was still so shocked about him and Ian. 

"Yo, you’re fucking serious Gallagher." 

"Mickey we’ve been through so much shit, I-" Ian’s voice broke off, his eyes filling with tears. When Mickey responded saying shit like that, it made him fear the worst. "Y-you don’t remember me at all?" He asked, his voice sounding defeated.

"I do, but…" Mickey paused. 

Seeing the boy’s eyes start to water was making him feel worse. Gallagher obviously like, cared about him or whatever, and Mickey had never felt that from anyone before; he could _feel_ how much Ian cared. He had been staying up here with him, right by his side the whole fucking time he was out, and thinking back, was so happy to see Mickey when he woke up. But there was something just, I don’t know…Mickey couldn’t fathom them living together. 

Them _being_ together.

"You gotta get the fuck outta here." He instructed shaking his head, his voice more panicked than demanding. 

"Mickey, please…" Ian stopped and turned from the older boy, unable to finish his plea without a tear falling from his eye. 

As bad as Mickey didn’t want to respond, he couldn’t help himself. And as bad as he just wanted to kick Ian the fuck out of this room, he couldn’t.

He just fucking couldn’t.

"Please what?" 

The redhead’s voice was so low and broken, and he spoke wiping more tears from his left eye. “Just…don’t forget about me Mick.” 

The older boy’s dark eyebrows remorsefully lifted in response.

The way Gallagher was talking to him gave Mickey a sense of…happy. He kind of wanted to know about this _so called_ relationship he had been apart of, but it was also scaring Mickey even more. He didn’t even know how to kiss someone, let alone live with them! 

Did that mean they shared the same bed? Did they fucking shower together? 

Was _that_ how Ian knew he hated using those fucking liquid soaps?

"I-it’s weird Gallagher…" he spoke hesitantly. "You look so different." 

"It’s me Mickey." The redhead muttered, stepping closer to his boyfriend. 

He didn’t make Gallagher back up, but Mickey sure as Hell wanted to. 

"Y-you just look so… _old_.” 

He was still trying to make sense of everything in his mind (and trying his best to not over-think the shit), but honestly; the thought of them being together was beginning to embarrass Mickey all over again. Every aspect was just so fucking uncomfortable to think about, and Mickey didn’t wanna talk anymore. Fuck, did this mean Mandy knew he was gay? What about Iggy? 

Joey would kick his ass for sure!

He’d had enough of feeling so confused and worried (for right now at least), and was gonna kick Gallagher out for real this time; but just as Mickey opened his mouth to get rid of the boy, he was interrupted by him and all these _reminders_. 

Reminders of the love they shared.

"You see that?" Ian asked softly, pointing to the hooded jacket laid across the arm of the hospital chair. "That’s mine, and you kept it because it reminds you of me…y-you said it smells like me." 

Mickey stared hard at the soft article of clothing, while trying even harder to focus his mind on Ian Gallagher’s scent. The redhead wore some kind of fancy cologne he’d always smell in the Kash & Grab whenever he went to steal shit…but Mickey liked the smell of Ian _sweating_ better. 

God, he fucking missed those little league days. 

"And this…" The younger boy continued, reaching for his gold chain and caressing it with his right thumb. "Mick _you_ bought this for me…so I would have something that reminds me of you.” Ian smiled, remembering the night he was surprised with it. “I never take this fucking thing off.” 

The older boy reached his hand out to grab hold of the golden chain, his mind now completely focused on it. Something about the shiny metal seemed so…familiar, but was Gallagher sure he hadn’t stole this fucking thing? 

Judging by the weight of it, Mickey was pretty sure the gold was real. 

"There’s no way I could afford this shit." He opposed decidedly. 

Ian made a face of anguish, reminded that this amnesia was more than just _him_ being forgotten, and it wasn’t fucking fair.

He wanted nothing more than to wrap Mickey in his big arms, hold him tighter than he ever had before, and just tell him everything would be okay. Ian wanted to kiss him, kiss Mickey’s lips all night, kiss them until they remembered how to kiss him back. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t do any of it…he knew his boyfriend wouldn’t let him. 

And it was breaking Ian down all over again. 

"My sister got you a job Mickey," he answered, his voice sadder than before. "All your money’s in your checking account." 

Job? Checking account? Was Gallagher still talking about him?

Mickey let go of Ian’s chain and leaned back into the softness of the hospital-issued pillow, his mind again switching to focus on something new. He didn’t know shit about having a bank account, (and anyone with a brain knew hiring Mickey Milkovich was like committing fucking suicide). He was quiet daydreaming about this more mature version of himself, which was probably what made Ian speak up again. 

"W-what’s the last thing you remember Mick?" 

Mickey answered without thinking, his mind still lost in thoughts about him _actually_ having a bank account. 

"I was mad." 

"Mad?" Ian repeated surprised, grabbing hold of Mickey’s wandering attention. "About what?" 

'Fuck.' He cursed to himself. 

The older boy didn’t realize that was what he’d answered saying, but being mad was indeed the last thing he could recall. 

Ian purposely shaving his firecrotch was the first memory Mickey had of the boy, and him being pissed off because of it was what he remembered. He didn’t know how he’d wound up in the hospital, or the last thing he was doing in whatever year he thought it was. All he could remember were these involuntary images that had played in his head, these emotions he had no control over because he was asleep. 

He knew it was all just a dream, but something about it made it seem like more than that; and he knew it sounded gay and ridiculous, but maybe the crazy dream would help cheer Ian up? 

Mickey could see how shitty he was feeling, and Gallagher obviously had no problem showing how much of a fag _he_ was. 

"I was uh…mad at you." He laughed, wiping his thumb against the corner of his mouth. "You, you shaved all your dick hair off." Mickey recalled, shrugging his shoulders like Ian wouldn’t understand. "It was a weird dream, I-I don’t know what th-"

"You remember that?" Ian asked cutting him off, his once sad voice full of hope.

Mickey was confused.

"What?" 

"Where were we?" The redhead questioned, his wet green eyes growing wide with a sparkle. 

Guess the plan to cheer him up worked?

"Uh, at the Kash & Grab I think." Mickey shook his. The dream was kinda fuzzy, but he tried remembering what exactly he’d said. "I came in…" He recalled, laughing again, "fuckin’ around about some Sli-" 

"Slim-Jims." Ian recounted along, causing Mickey to stop talking.

'What the fuck?' He thought to himself.

His boyfriend wasn’t laughing or smiling anymore either, but the redhead was so excited Mickey remembered _something,_ that he just kept babbling on like the older boy’s face didn’t look freaked the fuck out. 

"That was just a few days after we first hooked up!" He reported, his voice overwhelmingly joyed. "The first time I tried kissing you!" He added. "W-what else can you remember Mick?" 

Ian was so ecstatic he had begun stuttering, but Mickey was so lost in his own mind he couldn’t reply. 

_Now what the fuck was going on?_

That dream was actually some shit that had _really_ happened between the two of them? How could that shit be? Was that why Mickey knew what had happened  before they walked into the cooler? That had to be why he could see what would’ve happened if he hadn’t of been woken up. 

Right?

Gallagher had said they first hooked up only days before that, and that he had tried kissing him; and the more Mickey tried picturing it, the more he swore he could see _that_ shit too. 

It was Ian. 

Ian Gallagher. 

Shirtless. 

Shirtless in his room. 

He had a black eye. 

He had a black belt.

They were quiet. 

It was quiet.

There was something about a crow-bar.

And something about a gun.

And what about cutting his fucking tongue out?

Mickey’s mind continued replaying all the things Gallagher had said to him over the course of this _enlightening_ conversation, and as he tried focusing each of them like he’d done with his “dream,” he began remembering more shit than he thought he could. 

_Way more._

Mickey could see a long dark purple dress when focusing on the words “Russian prostitue.” He could see a pale woman on top of him, and he could _feel_ how scared they both were. But what was weirder was he could see that same face, smiling behind a white lace veil. He was in a room with…with dozens of people. Was it a wedding? Was this _his_ wedding? Was she his wife? She…she was, and she, and she hated Nazis? Mickey could hear himself calling her that, he could hear himself _saying_ that…but, but why was he was saying it to Ian? Was Gallagher mad at him? Maybe he was just sad? Mickey couldn’t tell, but he was…he was leaving, and Ian hadn’t come to see him. Mickey could feel himself start hurting, and he saw himself on the edge of his bed. He was crying, and he was a pussy, he was a _fucking pussy!_ Mandy had yelled it at him, he could hear her, and then he…and then he was drunk, repeating those same words to her? He could _feel_ his buzz, and they both had on different clothes, and he…he needed to go talk to Gallagher? He _did_ go talk to Gallagher. He…he could feel the snow beneath his boots…he could hear himself whispering to _NOT_ be a fucking pussy…he saw himself waiting at their front door. Then he was waiting in Gallagher’s bedroom doorway. He could feel how nervous he was, and he saw himself biting the corner of his bottom lip. They…they started arguing. Mickey had done something to Ian, to…to get him back home? He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know how the arguing switched…but somehow, Gallagher had stopped yelling about that, and started demanding to hear how Mickey…how Mickey _felt?_

Yeah, his feelings. 

And that was when Ian needed to get the fuck out of his hospital room. 

Mickey could hear the words…all the words he’d spoken to him. He…he thought about him a lot…he liked the color of Ian’s hair, and the way he smoked cigarettes…he liked his freckles…and he, he kept a jacket that belonged to him? He did, it was the same hoodie in the room with them right now…Mickey could fucking _smell_ it. But what had finally sent him over the edge, was what he heard next. Mickey _needed_ Ian…that’s what he heard himself say. He needed to see his face…he needed to hear his voice…he wanted to kiss Ian…he wanted to fuck Ian…Mickey was…he was in love with him, he heard the words come out of his own fucking mouth!

Mickey Milkovich was _in love_ with Ian Gallagher. 

But that was the thing…

This wasn’t that same Mickey.

"Y-you gotta go Gallagher." He finally spoke. "I ain’t fucking playin’."

Mickey was confused, and needed some time to figure _himself_ out.

"Micke-" Ian started, but was quickly cut off. 

He was gonna need some **space** too. 

"You say we fucking live together?" He asked rhetorically, his voice calm and chilling. "You gotta go pack your shit now, Gallagher. When I get out of this fucking hospital…I-I don’t want you in my house." 

The words his boyfriend coldly spoke to him turned all Ian’s excitement into heartbreak. His voice cracked as he tried responding, but his dejected cry was once again swiftly interrupted. 

"Mi-" 

"I’m not playin’ Gallagher!" Mickey wasn’t mad, he was just… _confused._ “I can’t just be shacked up with you, livin’ like some fucking fag! I-I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I don’t wanna fucking see you…n-not until I get some shit figured out.” 

Ian was almost in tears hearing the seriousness of Mickey’s voice. It was like, there was nothing he could do, not a damn thing he could say, and it was all so unreal to him. How the fuck could he just go pack his shit up and leave? Mickey was the only life he knew now. They were forever, they were suppose to be _forever_ , and this wasn’t the end. There was no way Ian could survive without him.

Mickey _**was**_ his heart. 

"M-" He tried pleading one final time.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" 

The venom in Mickey’s voice caused the watering green eyes of his boyfriend to fill, his right overflowing first, sending a warm tear running down his cheek. Ian stared at the blurred figure of the boy in front of him until his embarrassment overcame his hope. 

He turned from Mickey dead inside, and then exited through the wooden door behind him. 

But if the redhead hadn’t obliged, he would’ve saw Mickey’s blue eyes begin to water _too_. He would’ve saw Mickey wipe the tears that hadn’t yet fallen from his face, and he would’ve heard his boyfriend apologize.

"I-I’m sorry." Mickey mumbled in the empty room. "I’m sorry Ian." 

He was so confused, so lost. He…he liked Gallagher, he did, but Mickey didn’t know anything about love…did he? He didn’t know how to show it, or even know what the fuck it really was, so how could he? But…but I mean if Gallagher loved him, he could like…try learning it all over, couldn’t he? Or maybe try remembering _harder_ how to love Ian back? 

_Couldn’t he?_

Ian was walking down a brightly lit hallway of the hospital when Mandy came walking towards him from the opposite end. She and Lip had left to take a fussy Liam back home to the Milkovich house (it was Saturday night/Sunday morning so Fiona and Debbie still weren’t back yet), but Mandy had forgotten her phone and came back to grab it. She was kinda surprised to see her best friend in the hallway at all, but seeing Ian with his head down and his eyes all red, got Mandy even more curious.

"Ian." She voiced softly, stepping to the right side of the hall. "What’s wrong?" 

Mandy’s caring tone only made the shit worse, and Ian began crying again as he answered her _loaded_ question.

"M-Mickey’s up." He mumbled, his low voice painfully shaky. "H-he thinks it’s two thousand ten." 

"2010?" Mandy asked confused.

Ian answered walking away from her, his right hand wiping tears from his face, and his big feet approaching the fourth-floor elevator doors.

"He said he didn’t want to see me." 

"What?" Mandy called after him, her brain now more confused. She was surprised Mickey was up, let alone acting like such an asshole. "Let’s just go talk to him!" She yelled, her voice sounding sad too. "Ian please!" 

He could hear how bad it was hurting his best friend to see him this way, but it was no use. The redhead was inconsolable…fucking devastated. 

Ian was _**heartbroken**._

The large parting doors of the hospital elevator opened, and he slowly began walking through them.

"H-he doesn’t love me Mandy…" Ian cried, shaking his head. "He doesn’t even wanna see me."

To Be Continued…


	31. Do You Like Him?

Mandy was infuriated. 

She was FUCKING PISSED! 

What the fuck had happened in the whole, _hour and twenty-seven minutes_ she had been gone? She **hated** to see Ian upset, and Mandy had never seen him look and sound more distraught than he did before he walked through those elevator doors. What the fuck had Mickey done? 

Shit, what the fuck was Mickey doing up?! 

As Mandy approached the wooden door that her big-little brother was behind, she kind of calmed down, realizing that he may be in some soft of corrupted condition. She didn’t bother knocking on the door though, and when she opened it, she was surprised to see Mickey sitting there, his head hanging down in the palms of both his hands. 

Had he been crying? 

Was he _still_ crying? 

The unanticipated sight had Mandy totally worried about her brother’s mental health, altogether perturbed about Mickey’s entire well-being.

"The fuck you want?" He barked in his usual way. 

Wow, the douchebag was _fine_.

"Nice to see you too, asshole." She fired back, stepping closer into the room and closing the door behind her. 

"What do you want?" He repeated without the vulgarity, his tone a bit softer. 

Mickey turned from facing his sister, afraid she would be able to see he had been crying. It was too late though, her idea that he was had clarified itself, the moment he looked up into her identical set of baby blue irises. The whites of Mickey’s eyes were painted a temporary red, his optical veins acting as the dye and his self-inflicted pain the stroking brush. There weren’t any fresh tears running down his face, or dried ones staining the paleness of his cheeks, but Mickey had been crying. 

He had definitely been crying. 

"You okay Mick?" Mandy sincerely questioned, walking closer to the hospital bed and taking a seat at the foot. "Ian told me."

Mickey waited for a moment, and then turned his attention back to his sister. His eyes were still red, but he didn’t look as sad as he had when she first came barging through the door. He took a closer look at her, noticing the maturity in her face and the different way her hair was styled.

It was weird, Mandy looked a lot older than he remembered too…but the more Mickey thought about it.

Maybe _not_ so weird?

"S-so this year shit is forreal?" He asked, his confused voice both low and hesitant.

Mandy slightly nodded her head “yes” in response, her thin pair of dark eyebrows lifting higher beneath the darker row of bangs covering them. 

"Even the shit about you and dad?" Mickey questioned, his unsure words sounding less tentative this time. 

Another nod was provided in place of actual words being spoken by Mandy, her pretty blue eyes staying locked with Mickey’s matching ones.

The boy turned from his sister a second time, his tone now that of shock with a sense of acceptance. 

"Fuuuck." He exhaled deeply.

There was a long, awkward silence in the room. Mickey’s heart monitor would’ve still been beeping, had he not reached over and just shut the damn thing off already, and it didn’t seem like he had anything specific left to say. 

So Mandy figured since _he_ had no more questions.

"What did you say to him?" She asked, trying her best to not sound accusatory. 

Mickey’s brow furrowed like he was ashamed (and Mandy figured he was), judging by his continued cycle of silence and the slight downward tilt of his head. Whatever had happened between them was obviously hurting Mickey too, but being quiet wasn’t gonna fix shit, and Mandy was beginning to grow impatient. 

"Why would you say you didn’t want to see him?" She pried, this question sounding more angry. 

Mickey was still being quiet, and after about six more of his silent seconds, Mandy had enough. 

"Why the fuck would you say you didn’t love him?!" She yelled in her most disgusted tone.

'WHAT?!' Mickey thought to himself.

It was the actual words Mandy had spoke that ignited the fire within him, and not the pretentious way she had scolded her brother, that sent him up in flames.

"I didn’t fucking say that!" He yelled back, his voice more agitated than hers.

Mandy stood to her feet, her blood boiling hotter than it had been before she’d started worrying about her brother; back when she encountered her best friend, physically bereaved and psychologically broken. He had some fucking nerve, yelling at her like _she_ was the one that had did something wrong! 

Mickey had _definitely_ fallen and hit his fucking head.

"Well what the fuck _did_ you say?!” She demanded, pointing her right finger in his face and sizing Mickey up. 

The older Milkovich broke eye contact with his sister for the third time. He was used to Mandy being a hard ass, but the pain and confusion he was feeling overpowered her high-pitched pursuit. She just didn’t fucking understand, all the crazy shit he’d been seeing? Mandy didn’t get it, she didn’t fucking care…she was only worried about Gallagher. 

Mickey’s whole world had _literally_ been set back years in time, and he didn’t know what was real anymore.

"He fucking lives with us?" He responded with his own question, his voice sounding scared of the answer he already knew. 

It was Mandy who turned from Mickey this time, the corners of her mouth turning up and her nose emitting a scoffing chortle.

"The fuck’s so funny?" He demanded, his face angrily twisting and his tone switching to match. 

"Yeah, he does." Mandy answered, still finding the humor in her own response. "But uh…he lives with _you_.” 

Mickey again grew silent, and quietly returned his face to the palms of his hands; his mind painfully recalling the intimate things Ian Gallagher had said to him. That’s how he knew his fucking shower knobs were switched around, and when he closed his eyes and tried picturing it, Mickey could see himself fixing his hair…fixing his hair with Ian Gallagher watching him. 

They were both naked in Mickey’s bathroom mirror, and the redhead was behind him; smiling, dripping wet, and grabbing hold of his bare waist. Mickey could feel Ian’s soft lips press against the side of his neck, and then he heard his dream self keep laughing. He…he sounded happy, and he was trying so hard to concentrate (the trick was to make it look like you hadn’t done shit to your hair), but Gallagher kept trying his best to fuck him up. He hadn’t _heard_ either of them actually say that, but Mickey knew that was why he kept hearing himself laugh.

He just…knew it. 

Mandy watched her big brother sit there with his face buried beneath his tattooed fingers, not really sure what to think. He didn’t sound like he was crying, and Mickey hadn’t responded yet, so Mandy proceeded to repeat the question she still hadn’t got an answer to. 

"Why would you say you didn’t want to see him?" She reiterated, taking another seat at the hospital bed’s end. 

He didn’t respond, his head remaining rested in palms. 

"Mickey."

He still wouldn’t look up.

"Mickey!" 

Mandy’s persistence finally paid off when Mickey raised his head yelling, the confusion in his mind again shading the pureness of his sclerae a teary tint of maroon. 

"Fuck, I don’t know Mandy! I just-" He stopped, too uncomfortable and embarrassed to finish. 

"Mickey, what is it?" 

The boy wiped the wetness from his blue eyes before the warm tears amplified, and he kept his head turned left, _NOT_ looking at his sister. 

Mandy had never seen Mickey like this, and it only made her want to help him more. The way his face was all frowned, but he was still crying, and the fact that he’d stopped mid sentence…Mandy knew something was on his mind. 

Something that was _killing_ him. 

"Mickey please, talk to me." Her voice was soft as she spoke, but Mandy didn’t bother trying to rub his shoulder for comfort. 

She knew the gesture would end badly.

"I-I don’t know Mandy." He repeated a second time, his voice more calm. "I see these like, flashes of him…of me, you too." He turned from her again. "I-I don’t know." 

Mandy got up from the bed and retrieved her cellphone that she had left charging on a table next to some bullshit vase of flowers Nick bought. (Like flowers really made up for his “accident”, but Ian didn’t want to throw them away). She unplugged it from the black cord it was connected to, and as she walked back over to Mickey, pulled up a picture she had saved with all her other photos.

"Here." She said smiling, tossing her brother the phone. "I guess y’all feel asleep watching the movie." 

Mickey’s blues eyes squinted hard at the small rectangular screen of Mandy’s phone, just to make sure he was seeing this shit right, and after a long period of consideration, he had made up mind. It was him, that was definitely him, laying fast asleep on the Milkovich couch. And Ian? Yup, that was for sure Ian sitting up on the couch, sleeping too. But was Mickey’s head really resting in the middle of Gallagher’s lap, like right by his fucking dick? 

It definitely was. 

Ian’s left hand was laying against Mickey’s chest, and his right was placed lightly on the top of his head (like Gallagher had fallen asleep playing with his fucking hair). They were both fully clothed and both had their eyes closed but somehow, Mickey felt this sort of _energy_ radiating from them…this sexual energy. That was probably the reason Mandy found her brother silent again, both his eyes passively plastered to the phone’s screen. 

And probably why the right corner of his mouth had turned up _just_ enough for her to notice. 

"Do you like him?" She asked, after watching him ~~smile~~ stare at the screen for another seven seconds. 

Mickey quickly flipped the phone shut, Mandy’s stupid voice drawing him back into the hospital room’s bright surroundings. His mouth wasn’t relaying a single type of happiness anymore, and his demanding voice backed up his facial expression. 

"Get the fuck out!" He yelled, tossing the phone from his grip. 

Mandy sat back down at her original seat, sliding her phone in her pocket and ignoring Mickey’s spastic hostility. “It’s just a question.” 

He was silent again. 

"Mickey talk to me." 

The boy exhaled deeply through his nostrils, his brow furrowing in agitation. He wanted to talk to somebody, he _needed_ to talk to somebody, and he figured that person could be Mandy. The two always did have a certain bond (a closer one than any two of the Milkovich siblings shared), and she obviously wasn’t gonna leave like he had fucking instructed. 

I mean, she did know he was gay…so that was a start, and he kinda felt good Terry wasn’t gonna be around to judge him, to _hurt_ him. 

Mickey couldn’t help how he felt. 

"Y-yeah." He answered hesitantly. "He’s…cool." 

Mandy smiled without showing her teeth, causing her brother to feel loved. Accepted. 

Gay as hell, but accepted.

"So what’s the problem?" She asked, like it was no big deal. 

Mickey’s brow furrowed again, but this time making his face look ashamed, and Mandy understood. 

He _felt_ gay as hell. 

"Mickey…nobody cares." She assured him, her tone sounding normal. "Y’all are kinda like, the perfect couple." She smiled, thinking about finding love that true. "You guys make each other _so_ happy.” 

"W-what about Iggy?" Mickey chimed in, challenging the perfection of this life he supposedly lived. "Joey would fucking kill us for sure!" 

Her brother’s first question literally made Mandy laugh out loud. She was still getting used to seeing her oldest brother in love. 

And _in love_ with cute little Casper Duncan.

"You won’t have to worry about Iggy." She answered, still laughing. "You’ll see why when we get home. And uh," Mandy stopped, her voice growing more serious. "Joe’s been stayin at some girl’s house ever since the funereal…I-I think he took it the hardest." 

Mickey started feeling kind of guilty about Terry, because he couldn’t help but keep reverting his mind back to Gallagher. Sure, he felt bad about his dad and all, but Jesus fucking Christ! 

They _lived_ together.

"But he can’t just stay with us Mandy…stay with _me_.” 

"Why not?" She challenged, like that shit was no big deal too. 

The simple way she asked only made Mickey feel more stupid than he already had been. Honestly, he didn’t have a real answer to that question, and Mandy was getting so sick of him and his awkward pauses. 

"Jesus, you gonna go get your fucking tattoo removed too?" She asked rolling her eyes, her tone both annoyed and rhetorical.

Mickey didn’t understand the sarcasm.

"What tattoo?" He asked back, his head tilting in harmony with a slight scrunch of his nose.

"You fucking serious?" Mandy laughed. "He didn’t show you his?" She continued, her mouth still grinning. "That’s the _first_ thing I would’ve done!”

Ian actually _had_ intended on showing Mickey his half of their inked insignia, their conversation had just prevented him from doing so, veering off it’s smooth roadway and all. 

Mandy stood up from the bed and grabbed Mickey by his arm, pulling him out from under the sheets. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and as she pulled him closer to the bathroom door, the back of his hospital gown opened, exposing his naked ass (still scarred from a _particular_ robbery incident). 

"Fuck Mandy." He protested, using his free hand to try closing it. "What the fuck?" 

"Whatever." She laughed, pulling the door shut until they were reflected in the full-length mirror. "Look." 

Mandy backed out of the reflection and stood in front of her brother. She pulled at the powder blue material until the entire left side of his torso (including his pale waist and thigh) was exposed. 

Oh, _that_ tattoo.

Mickey’s blue eyes grew wider than Mandy had ever seen them, and all she could do was smile.

"Whaaat the fuuuck?" He repeated, but in a more shocked manner. "That’s…that’s Gallagher." 

"Yeah Mick, it was your idea." Mandy laughed, informing her awestruck brother. "His matches yours, but you should uh," She raised her eyebrows and nodded towards his junk. "…look a little closer." 

Mandy turned to give Mickey a little privacy, although he wasn’t sure why exactly he needed it; but once he stopped looking at the reflection of his tattoo and began looking down at it, Mickey’s eyes followed to where the enormous piece faded, and he discovered why Mandy had coyly turned around. It was upside down, but Mickey could see there was a set of initials permanently marked onto the shadow cast by the separation of his toned torso and thigh. The two cursive letters were perversely close to his pubic region, and Mickey instantly knew what the capital “I” and the “G” stood for. 

Or _who_ they stood for, at least.

"What the fuuuck?" He repeated a third time. 

Mandy turned back around to face him, her smile no longer present.

"Mick, you said you see like…flashes of him?" She asked, trying to make sense of it in her own head. "You can’t remember the night y’all got those?" 

Mickey turned to look at his side in the mirror again, and he didn’t answer her closing his eyes.

"I-I don’t know…I think I might." He stared hard at the tattooed profile of Ian Gallagher’s face, focusing on the fucking flawlessness of it all. "H-he couldn’t just close his eyes this time…I had to blindfold him." 

Huh? 

The fuck was he talking about “this time?” What the fuck did _that_ mean?

"Huh?" Mandy asked, her top lip unintentionally snarling. 

The confusion in her voice made Mickey close his eyes, and focus harder on what was playing in his head. He had given Gallagher that gold chain, he remembered now. That night was so vivid to him, so crystal clear. He remembered picking it out through the glass display case, and enlisting Carl to help find a place to stash it before Ian got home from the Kash & Grab. He remembered what Gallagher said to him after he gave it to him, and he even remembered making out with him in front of Kevin at The Alibi. 

Shit, guess no one really didn’t care? 

"It’s like…I can remember shit, if I think about it." He spoke, rubbing the back of his head. "But now I’m starting to remember shit without having to think." 

Hearing that made Mandy kind of worried.

"Mickey…do you wanna talk to someone?" She asked, already guessing what his answer would be.

Mickey Milkovich didn’t do shrinks.

"Fuck no. When the doc comes in just play cool." He instructed, his tone serious but his voice speaking low. "I’m gonna figure this shit out myself." 

Mandy looked at her brother, not confident he was doing the right thing. 

"I-I guess Mickey." She answered hesitantly. 

The boy was probably naive to lie about his condition, but Mickey was fortunate that things would _in fact_ , get better with him. 

If he would’ve been honest with the trained professionals, they would’ve examined him further, finding that it was the ample amount of swelling around his temporal lobe that had induced his retrograde amnesia. They would’ve been able to explain to Mickey that those “flashes” he was seeing were mere memories of the last few years he couldn’t automatically recall, stored away in his subconscious mind; and that it was his conscious mind grabbing hold of those memories, and it had been his subconscious yelling that this was all untrue. 

That it was still the year two thousand ten. 

All patients’ conditions are different, and after Mickey had accepted the information Ian and Mandy provided him with, after his _brain_ accepted it, he was able to tap into that part of his mind not in full awareness. The dual parts of his consciousness had began operating in sync again, and that was why Mickey was starting to remember.

Starting to remember _everything_. 

"So what are you gonna do about Ian?" Mandy asked, like they had been talking about nothing else this entire time. 

"Fuck." He thought out loud. 

Mickey quickly began walking back and forth, both his thumbs rubbing against the outer sides of his index fingers, and his upper row of teeth chewing profusely at the corner of his bottom lip. 

He needed a fucking cigarette. 

_**Bad**_.

"Just…" Mickey stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "Gimme your phone." 

Mandy smiled, and retrieved her cell from the back pocket of her fitted blue jeans. She had this idea of who Mickey wanted to call, and so she pulled up his contact information on the small screen, before insidiously handing the phone to him. 

"Fucking bitch." He mumbled under his breath, taking a look at the cell. 

Mandy knew what two words those translated into, and so she replied accordingly. “You’re welcome.” 

Mickey took another deep breath, told himself to “Don’t Be A Fucking Pussy,” and then tactlessly pressed _send_ on the mobile phone’s keypad. 

The dial tone rang twice before someone on the other end picked up…it was Ian.

"Aye Gallagher…" He began, his voice sounding nervous as fuck.

Mandy heard some muffled talking on the other end, and then noted her brother’s need to begin biting his bottom lip again.

"Y-yeah." He answered to the boy on the phone, and then took one last calming breath. 

Mandy couldn’t help but smile bigger, hearing what Mickey had nervously voiced next.

Voiced to his _boyfriend_.

"C-can you meet me at the 3rd Street baseball field?" 

To Be Continued…


	32. I Want You To Stay.

3:36 a.m. 

It was pretty cold outside to be an almost summer night, mainly just the result of the wild Chicago wind blowing every few seconds. Ian silently walked with both his big hands tucked away in the front pockets of his torn blue jeans, his graphic crew neck t-shirt not thick enough to keep the too cool breeze of the morning bearable. The paved sidewalk beneath his feet was uneven and cracked, and as the firm ground beneath him shifted from cement to soft grass, Ian found Mickey where the boy’s text message said he would be; beneath the dugout, sitting on the home team’s bench. The redhead stood in the entrance way, watching Mickey drink straight from a bottle of whiskey. He looked his normal self just sitting there, and he looked even happier when he looked up and saw Ian had arrived. 

"Hey." The older boy half-smiled, tilting his head back down from his fifth swig of the dark liquor.

Though his face was only dimly lit by the shine of the moon, Mickey could see Ian’s eyes weren’t showing any type of emotion (and his stare was cold as fuck too). He didn’t look angry or sad though, Ian didn’t even look mad…he just looked like he didn’t give a fuck.

Like he didn’t give a fuck about _anything_. 

"Hey." He fired back, his lips remaining stern. 

Ian’s response wasn’t as friendly as Mickey’s, partly because he wasn’t intoxicated like Mickey was, and partly because Mickey wasn’t feeling as embarrassed as Ian had been. It really took a lot to break him down (or even make the redhead cry), and after the selfish way Mickey had completely disregarded his feelings at the hospital, Ian had become sort of numb to the whole situation. He had put himself all the way out there, and it didn’t pay off, not one bit. 

Mickey needed some time? 

Fine. 

But after receiving the mysterious call to meet him at the baseball field, Ian didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t wanna go back to that dark place, and so to say his guard was up…was a _definite_ understatement. 

It was the only way for him to not start hurting all over again, to not start dying again.

Just tell himself he didn’t give a fuck. 

"You gonna keep fucking standing there?" Mickey asked taking another drink, observing the tall figure still standing in the dugout’s opening.

That’s _exactly_ what Ian was gonna go. 

"What’s up?" He responded emotionlessly, shrugging both his shoulders with his hands still in his pockets. "Why’d you ask me to meet you here?" 

Mickey was drunk, but he could still sense Gallagher’s pissy attitude. Yeah okay, he had said some shit he didn’t mean in the hospital, but he wasn’t sitting here getting wasted for no fucking reason, (and Ian sure as Hell wasn’t making the shit easier for him). He’d called Gallagher to _this_ specific baseball field for a reason, but Mickey couldn’t really say what that reason was. 

Not just yet.

Ian stared into the blue eyes staring back at him, and then grew irritated after not receiving an answer. “Fuck this.” He cursed, turning to walk back home. 

Mickey stood to his feet, the glass whiskey bottle still in his right hand. 

"C’mon Gallagher…I-I’m sorry." He apologized, slightly slurring his words. "I ain’t mean the shit I said, t-this is fucking hard for me too." He exhaled loudly, taking another seat on the aluminum bench. 

Ian turned back around, hearing the _hurt_ in Mickey’s voice. He knew his boyfriend enough to know that his stuttering wasn’t just the result of his alcohol-induced speech impediment, and he figured being called to this specific location had some type of significance to him. Ian hadn’t really taken the time to consider how Mickey must be feeling, (basically waking up in an alternate universe and all), but he still continued to stand in the entrance way of the dugout. To stand as far from Mickey as possible.

It was safer there. 

"Y-you okay?" Ian asked hesitantly, the cold in his voice finally breaking to emit some compassion. "I mean like…all the time stuff?" 

Mickey nodded his head once, his body growing uncomfortable hearing that caring tone in Gallagher’s voice. 

What, did he _not_ want Ian to care?

Before he could respond verbally, Mickey pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, along with his silver Zippo. He quickly opened the box and placed a single stick filter-end first between his top and bottom lips. He snapped the rectangular lid of the lighter open and tried flicking the striker for a flame. 

Nothing. 

Mickey tried again. 

Nothing. 

"Fuck." He cursed to himself, trying to ignite it a third time. 

Mickey couldn’t really remember the last time he’d refilled this particular lighter. He had an entire collection of Zippos, but maybe it was the amnesia fucking with his mind?

Or maybe just Jack Daniel?

Ian hesitated, but then couldn’t help himself from grabbing hold of the red Bic in his front pocket. He finally made his way into the dugout and over to where Mickey was sitting, his bright green eyes scanning the familiarity all around him. He helpfully held his lighter out to Mickey’s un-lit cigarette, and then manifested the blue and yellow fire with a simple _flic_ of his right thumb. 

"Preciate it." He thanked the redhead, leaning his face in towards the flame. 

Ian took a seat a couple of feet down from Mickey, returning his lighter and both hands into the warmth of his front pockets. The older boy took a few desperately needed drags of menthol, and then offered the cigarette to Ian, who gratefully accepted the gesture. Mickey then took another few swigs from the glass whiskey bottle he’d been sipping from, and kindly offered that to Ian as well. 

The two boys sat in silence, passing the half-empty liquor bottle and full-lit cigarette back and forth. They didn’t need to speak, they didn’t want to, this serene silence was louder than any shouting that had ever blared through either of their ear drums. 

Instead, Ian and Mickey allowed the cool Chicago wind to do all their talking for them, and they both found it easier to relax, as the two very _legal_ inhibitors began working their impairing magic. 

4:04 a.m.

Mickey wasn’t the only one drunk anymore. 

The older boy recognized the subtle change in Ian’s posture, and judging by the number of swigs he had gulped down, Mickey figured Gallagher would be more likely to lighten the fuck up now. The two boys would’ve still been sitting there in silence had Mickey not shamelessly broken it, stating one of the only drunken things he could think of to hopefully get Ian to respond in a more positive way. 

"Mandy uh, showed me my tattoo." He kinda laughed, hearing how backwards it sounded out loud. 

"Oh yeah?" Ian asked smiling. 

"Yeah Gallagher." Mickey smiled too, and then waited long enough for his next question to be plausible without him seeming too interested. "You gonna fucking show me yours, or what?" 

"Ohhh." Ian laughed, not realizing that’s what Mickey wanted. 

Guess Ian might’ve been drunker than he thought he was?

The redhead got up from his seat and walked over to stand in front of Mickey. Ian turned his body so that his left side was illuminated in the moonlight, and then lifted his gray t-shirt to reveal the other half of their inked masterpiece. Though the younger boy was looking down at him, Ian was surprised to feel the sudden touch of Mickey’s cold hands pressing against his freckled skin, grabbing hold of his bare waist to pull him in for a closer look. 

A closer look at _himself_. 

"Damn Gallagher." Mickey cursed, looking at the size of the tattoo, (Ian’s was slightly bigger because he was taller). "And this was your first one?" 

"Hell yeah." He drunkenly laughed, his mind vividly recalling all six of the _excruciating_ hours. “Shit hurt like a bitch.” He wined. Ian always acted spoiled when it came to his tattoo.

"Ha! You’re just a lil pussy." Mickey joked, his hands letting go of his boyfriend.

"Fuck off." Ian laughed, sitting back down. "So how’d you get out so early?" He inquired, the conversation flowing more naturally between them.

"Doc don’t know I left." Mickey answered, rubbing the back of his head. "I’ll go back tomorrow, so they don’t send a fucking _S.W.A.T._ team after me.” 

"That’s a good idea." Ian agreed sarcastically, pulling a pack of his own cigarettes out. He had recently switched to Camel Lights, (and Mickey hadn’t yet hopped on the bandwagon). 

As the redhead began smoking, the two boy’s calming conversation quickly faded into silence. Ian thought it’d be best to hurry and say something while the mood was still comfortable, and his thoughts landed on a specific question he still hadn’t got a straight answer to. 

"Why’d you ask me to meet you _here_?” He repeated, his tone not nearly as lifeless as it had been the first time. “Like, we couldn’t’ve just talked at home?” He laughed.

'Home.' Mickey thought to himself.

The dark-haired boy slowly got up from his seat and walked straight until being forced to stop at the fence’s guard. He laced all eight of his tattooed fingers (along with his two thumbs), through the diamond openings of wire that created the fence, and just stared out at the partially lit playing field. Mickey could _feel_ himself begin to get nervous, but getting nervous about how you _felt_ was what pussies did. 

Was Mickey Milkovich a fucking pussy?

"This is…it’s just where I see you best." He answered, his back facing the redhead’s line of view. 

Ian was confused.

"Huh?" 

Mickey laughed to himself, hearing how drunk Gallagher sounded. He too was now drunk enough to explain why _exactly_ he’d asked him here, Mickey just couldn’t do it while looking at Ian. 

Not at those green eyes, and definitely not at any of his fucking freckles.

"You uh, you used to play second…you were pretty badass." Mickey laughed to himself, remembering how competitive Gallagher used to be. "You’d always be like, bitchin’ about not gettin short-stop though, cuz Coach’s kid got to play it."

"I was better than that motherfucker." Ian chimed in, his tone slightly venomous.

He _obviously_ still wasn’t over that.

"You were alright." Mickey laughed again, his cold blue eyes still peering out at the brown sand and green grass. "I, I uh-" He abruptly hesitated, and then stopped.

Ian waited for a moment, hoping his shy boyfriend would find the courage to say whatever it was that was on his mind. He watched the boy’s right thumb begin to toy with a diagonal line of metal that acted as one fourth of the fence’s small diamonds; and although he couldn’t see the paleness that was Mickey’s face, he was willing to bet his life his boyfriend was chewing at the _right_ corner of his bottom lip. 

Ian knew his Mickey all too well. 

"What is it?" He asked, growing impatient and sensing it was something making him anxious. 

"I-I don’t know." Mickey stuttered.

He actually did know, but choking on his true feelings came more natural to Mickey than breathing did. 

Respiration was _easy_. 

Self-expression was a fucking cunt. 

After he’d been harassed by Mandy and spent some time thinking on the bench before Gallagher arrived, he’d realized there wasn’t much to be afraid of. He liked Ian, he liked him a lot, and saying it out loud made it easier for him to accept it. Mickey had spent his entire life guarded and afraid to be honest with himself about anything, but the more shit he remembered about these last few years, the more he understood he didn’t have to be that way. The more he understood he _wasn’t_ that way anymore. That Mickey was a fucking pussy, and Mickey Milkovich was **NOT** a fucking pussy.

Not anymore.

"This is just where I first…noticed you, I guess." Mickey tried explaining.

Ian smiled and got up from the bench. He began taking small steps, slowly inching his body closer to the shorter boy’s opposite facing one. Now that he knew where this was all leading to, he thought it was kinda cute how choked up Mickey had gotten. Ian had an idea of what he was really trying to say, and so he understood why Mickey might’ve been a little embarrassed. 

“ _Noticed_ me, huh?” He teased, the older boy’s back still facing him. 

Mickey removed his fingers from the fence and walked away from the sound of Ian’s flirtatious voice, without turning around. “Fuck off Gallagher.” 

The redhead cackled in response to his boyfriend’s dour actions, reminding him that not everything had to be so fucking serious all the time. 

_Especially_ when you were as buzzed as they were.

As Mickey followed his path deeper towards the interior end of the dugout, he couldn’t help but start feeling just a tad bit childish. He wasn’t naive to the fact that Gallagher had no intentions of ridiculing him, but he still hadn’t fully accepted himself…so it was just _hard_. 

Everything was so fucking hard.

Ian again waited for Mickey to hopefully turn back around, but when he didn’t, the redhead spoke first. 

"So what you wanna do Mick?" He asked, his tone serious but not. "We can’t just stay out here forever." 

'I wish we could.' He thought to himself, but still didn't turn around.

Ian allowed twelve more long seconds to pass. He calmly stared at Mickey’s flawless backside, hidden away in the darkest shadows of the dugout, before again challenging the boy’s reticence. 

"C’mon, you gotta let me know som-"

"Just shut the fuck up." Mickey cursed, cutting him off. His back was still to the redhead, but it didn’t matter with what he said next. "We can’t just start back normal, aight?" He asked so it wasn’t a question. "This shit is fucking crazy, but uh…y-you don’t gotta go. I-" 

Mickey stopped and finally turned around to look at Ian, the right side of his boyfriend’s face illuminated in the moonlight’s soft glow. As he moved towards the tall frame of red hair and freckles waiting patiently on the other side, Mickey’s body began forcing him to take deeper breaths, his heart rate’s usual beat per minute increasing drastically. And even though they were now basically eye to eye (and Mickey was sure Gallagher could hear his fucking heart pounding) he found all the courage he needed, to verbally express what it was he _wanted_. 

And Mickey did it without a hint of fear. 

"I want you to stay." 

The right corner of Ian’s mouth turned up until it’s opposite helped create a full smile. The redhead’s grin was obviously contagious, because as Mickey scoffed and broke eye contact, Ian could see he was smiling too. 

"So you ready to go then?" He asked smiling, placing his hands back in his pockets for warmth. "It’s windy as shit tonight."

"Y-yeah." Mickey answered, his eyes not meeting back up with Ian’s. "But uh, before we go…I gotta try somethin’ first." 

The redhead couldn’t help but notice his boyfriend’s sudden hesitation again, which got him kind of curious as to what he had planned. He knew _this_ Mickey only got nervous whenever it was something involving him, but Ian didn’t respond like he possessed that vital piece of information. 

"What?" He asked simply.

The older boy looked up into Ian’s green eyes, and just stared at him for a moment. Mickey then turned to obtain and ingest the remainder of whiskey from the glass Jack bottle, and burped out the rest of his insecurities, along with the burning carbon dioxide.

"Don’t move." He instructed, setting the bottle down and walking back over to his boyfriend. 

Ian _clearly_ had no problem following the strict order he’d been given, the fucking grin on his face made that shit clear. Mickey couldn’t help smiling too, but as he made his way back in front of Gallagher, he raised both his thumbs to the boy’s eyelids, quickly removing Ian’s view of his beaming face. 

With his right thumb still hovering over his closed eye, Mickey ran his hand down to grab hold of Gallagher’s jaw, positioning the boy’s coy face with the assistance of his index finger. When he got Ian’s lips where he wanted them, Mickey began inching his own mouth closer to Gallagher’s, his hollow heart pounding harder than it had been all night. When his face arrived about as close as humanly possible, the older boy bared his teeth and gently pulled at the soft bottom lip of Ian Gallagher, guiding the boy in closer to him. The redhead was actually surprised at the familiar embrace, so much so, that he unthinkingly began disobeying his boyfriend’s orders, and grabbed hold at the side of Mickey’s face. 

Gallagher’s touch only made Mickey mirror the boy’s hold, his own tattooed fingers finding balance against Ian’s skin. He didn’t really know _how_ it happened, but somehow, Mickey’s teeth were no longer biting Ian’s lip, and Ian’s lips were now pressed firmly against Mickey’s fuller set. The older boy could feel Ian’s face begin to slightly turn, and so he followed the redhead’s lead, turning his head in the opposite direction. 

"Mmmm." Ian exhaled deeply, stumbling in the sand beneath his feet.

Shit, with the way Gallagher was moaning…Mickey was pretty sure he was doing _everything_ right.

After a few more seconds of kissing, Mickey felt like that was enough. He had did it, he had _finally_ fucking did it, and that’s all that mattered. But when he opened his blue eyes and saw Ian looking at him, his signature smile so bright on his face, Mickey leaned back up on his toes to lightly press their lips back together again.

Just one more time.

"Where’d that come from?" Ian asked smiling, his hand still laying against Mickey’s face. 

The older boy looked away grinning, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his mind all bubbly. He shrugged both his shoulders in response to the question he’d been asked, and then Ian let the hold he had on his boyfriend’s face go. 

"Well I guess that was like…our second first kiss, huh?" He flirted, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. 

Mickey smiled, and then placed the four fingers of his right hand against Ian’s forehead, playfully pushing his boyfriend back a few paces. 

"Don’t be such a fag Gallagher." 

"Ha! Whatever." Ian laughed, as Mickey walked past him, heading towards the entrance way they had both came in through.

"You gonna fucking stay here?" The older boy inquired, turning his attention back to look at the redhead.

"What are we doin’?" Ian asked back, his mind still just a tiny bit inebriated.

Mickey laughed at that drunk tone in Gallagher’s voice, and then answered him in a way that even an _incoherent_ Ian would’ve been able to clearly comprehend.

"C’mon Gallagher…let’s go **home**.”

To Be Continued…


	33. The Truth?

4:32 a.m.

"Oh fuck you! You should’ve been the fucking demon, you’re the one ain’t got no soul Gallagher." 

"Ha, fuck off!" Ian laughed. "But you’re the one who fucking drew ‘em Mick." 

"Whatever man, aren’t Gingers just like fucking vampires?" Mickey smiled, cracking open his third can of beer. "Bet you can’t wait to get old, that shit’ll start turnin’ gray…too bad, you’ll still be stuck with _all_ those fucking freckles though.” He laughed, shaking his head and lifting the can to his lips.

The redhead knew he was being flirted with, his boyfriend had been flirting the entire walk back from 3rd Street. All his stupid jokes about Ian having red hair, and Mickey’s childish attempts to trip the taller boy; they were all his ways of showing affection…no matter how twisted that shit seemed.

The boys had taken a quick detour, cutting past S. Spaulding to stop at the Kash & Grab for a few things. Mickey had picked up a 6-pack of Old-Styles and two cans of BBQ Pringles, free of charge (as always) but he used his key to get in, so _technically_ , it couldn’t be considered stealing this time. He had also slipped a 3-pack box of large condoms into his blue jean’s back pocket, not really caring if Ian saw him or not. (He figured Gallagher would catch his drift, and it was way less embarrassing than saying something ~~gay~~ out loud). The two had finally made their way home to the Milkovich house, standing outside the gate guarding the front lawn. Both of them were laughing, both of them were drunk. 

And both of them were horny as fuck. 

"You have freckles too, Mick." Ian reminded him, reaching his hand out for his boyfriend’s drink. 

"Whatever." Mickey burped, handing the alcohol over. "Whose fucking car is that?" He asked, observing the red and black Audi backed into his driveway. 

"Caspers’." Ian answered like Mickey should’ve known, his mind too focused on the contents of the cold can he was preparing to drink from. 

"Casper." He repeated. The odd name sounded familiar to him, but Mickey wasn’t exactly in the condition to be concentrating "Who the fuck is that?" 

Ian laughed, remembering he probably couldn’t recall the kid right away. “He’s uh…Iggy’s friend.” He answered smirking, walking through the fence and up the first few porch steps. 

Mickey would’ve followed after Ian, had the sound of the car’s roaring engine and the constant thump of a muffled bassline prevented him from walking further. He squinted his blue eyes in the darkness of the morning to try and get a better look, but the tinted windows of the flashy vehicle were far too dark for Mickey to see through. 

"I-is somebody in there?" He asked still squinting, extending his neck to aid his insufficient eyesight.

"Uh, yeah…probably." Ian laughed. He could only imagine what Casper and Iggy were doing in the kid’s car, at four in the fucking morning. 

_Fucking_ morning.

"The fuck’s so funny Gallagher?"

Ian didn’t respond, but his reddish-brown eyebrows involuntarily raised (like he knew something Mickey didn’t), and so the older boy began walking closer to the started car, in search of his own fucking answers. 

"Mick." He tried warning. "I wouldn’t…" 

4:13 a.m.

"When the FUCK is that baby goin’ home?!" Iggy demanded rhetorically, lighting the rolled joint between his lips. 

Casper laughed at how irritated the boy sounded, but only because he knew how much Iggy liked Liam. 

"Ha, shut up!" He laughed, pushing Iggy’s upper arm. "You know you fucking love him." 

"Whatever." The older boy rolled his eyes, but he really couldn’t deny it. "Not when the little fucker keeps everybody up all night!" Iggy laughed too. 

It was hard enough trying to stay hard with Liam crying his fucking eyes out, but add the toddler’s constant shrieks with the sound of his sister trying to calm it, and the result was a very… _limp_ Iggy Milkovich. He did like playing with Liam and all, but c’mon little dude, go to fucking sleep already.

Just go to fucking sleep! 

"He’ll be sleep in a little bit." Casper assured him, taking hold of the joint being passed his way. "He’s been crying ever since they brought him home…he’ll tire himself out soon."

Liam had been complaining about how bad his teeth were hurting him, but all the remedies they’d provided him with proved absolutely useless. Too bad he wasn’t fourteen, Iggy would’ve given the little dude a few shots of gin…that was the cure for everything, right? He could hear Liam now, crying his name as best he could with his little hand pressed against his cheek. _“Giggy…it huwts.”_

"I fucking hope so." He answered, his voice sounding slightly worried. 

Iggy and Casper hadn’t had sex, not since the night they visited Mickey at the hospital, right after the doctors had finished sewing up his busted head. It really fucked Iggy up to see his little brother like that; laying there almost lifeless, his pale face even paler than usual. The grisly sight was reminiscent of their father, lying dead in his fucking casket…and that was the part that had really messed him up most. The eldest Milkovich had someone to keep him comforted though, someone he didn’t mind opening up to, and someone he could _completely_ be himself around. 

Iggy had his CJ.

And after Mandy had come home with Liam (and then left again), her second trip home was coupled with news of Mickey’s awakening. She didn’t really go into massive details, only that their brother’s memory was kind of patchy, and that he was meeting Ian at the field he used to play at; so naturally, with him not being worried about Mickey anymore, Iggy immediately wanted to start fucking, but there was no way he could get hard…not _inside_ at least.

But wait, where were Casper and Iggy at now?

"Fuck." Casper moaned, the warm sensation of Iggy’s tongue stroking up his neck making his muscular body twitch. "The joint’s not even done yet." 

"I ain’t tell you to put it out." He whispered into the boy’s ear, placing soft kisses on Casper’s neck in place of his wet tongue. 

"Mm, hold on." The kid disapproved, trying his best not to moan so he would be taken seriously. 

Iggy backed his head up surprised, his tone sounding annoyed. “What?!” 

"W-what are we doin’?" 

"Well, I was tryna suck ya dick…’til you fucking stopped me." The older boy answered smiling. 

"You know what I mean." Casper responded, his eyebrows raising slightly and his voice remaining stern. 

Iggy paused, his head turning right to stare through the darkness of the car’s tinted window, and then back left at the boy in the driver’s seat. He had a feeling this would he coming any day now, and Iggy was pretty confident he knew what was on Casper’s mind. 

"What you want me to say, CJ?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders and staring into the boy’s pretty brown eyes.

"I-I don’t know…tell me the truth." 

"The truth?" Iggy scoffed, running the long fingers of his right hand through his longer brunette hair.

Casper wanted the truth? 

Truth was…Iggy **hated** that fucking word, the word he knew the kid so desperately wanted him labeled as. “Boyfriend” was a temporary title, an insignificant epithet, shared between two people who were stupid enough to complicate their relationship. Anything good was eminently bound to change after being branded with the word, branded with _that_ fucking word. Their expectations would begin to increase, and the trust they had in one another would insidiously start to subside, guaranteed. It always happened like that, always. And it would always start with that stupid ass word… _boyfriend_. 

Everything was going so perfect between them, better than Iggy could’ve ever imagined. 

Why fuck around and ruin it?

"It’s just…shit changes after that." Casper turned away, but was quickly pulled back into the gaze of Iggy by the sudden grip of the boy’s hand on his chin. "Don’t be like that J, everything’s fucking perfect with us." 

"I guess." Casper’s brown eyes looked away, but his face was still being held in the older boy’s left hand. 

The kid’s spoiled tone of voice kind of pissed him off, but what could he really expect from a ritzy _Lake Shore_ scholar?

"Fuck." Iggy cursed annoyed, pushing Casper’s face away. "You wanna hear the fucking truth kid?" 

The younger boy’s face frowned, his brown eyes growing bigger. “You don’t gotta get all angry, man. I…I just really like you.” 

There was a long silence in the car, as Casper’s last sentence kept echoing in the back of Iggy’s mind, his tone all sad and his caring words hesitant. 

Fuck Milkovich, stop being such a dick!

"I-I’m sorry kid." He apologized, he didn’t mean to get so upset. "It’s just-" The older boy stopped to take a deep breath. "It’s only been a couple weeks, but I swear…you mean the fucking world to me Casper." Iggy didn’t really have a problem expressing how he felt, and it wasn’t even because he was high. "I ain’t never felt this way about nobody, and you fucking know that." 

The younger boy smiled hearing his crush call him by his real name, and all the sadness in his voice quickly turned to glee. “You’ve never told me that.”

"Well I’m fucking saying it now!" Iggy declared, his raspy voice not sounding annoyed anymore. "It’s just somethin’ about you kid…I don’t know." The older boy took another hold of Casper’s chin, their eyes locking in the almost complete darkness of his Audi. "You’re funny as shit…I can talk to you, you know? About anything." Iggy’s tone had returned to normal, and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but start turning up. "You ain’t too bad to look at either…" 

Casper looked down smiling, his face suggesting he may have been a little embarrassed. Iggy moved the grip he had on the boy’s chin to place his fingers on Casper’s neck, his thumb lightly stroking the scar running over the kid’s protruding cheekbone. 

"…and I shouldn’t have to tell you I ain’t fuckin’ nobody else, ‘specially some fag around here." The younger boy sighed, looking back up into Iggy’s blue eyes. "I don’t know what the fuck I was doing before I met you CJ, but I know I’m not gonna fuck up and hurt you…I’ll never fucking hurt you."

"I-" Casper tried chiming in, but was quickly cut off.

"And what kid, you wanna call me ya fucking _boyfriend_? You want me to call you that?” He made the word sound ridiculously redundant. “Fine, if that’s what you want J.” Iggy agreed. “You’re my boyfriend, and I’m yours, but…” The older boy paused and sat back in the passenger seat, his left hand letting go of Casper and his last audible words trailing off in agony. 

The kid instinctively reached his right hand out, grabbing hold of his leg to comfort him. “But what Iggy?” 

Before finding the courage to speak up, he took another deep breath. Iggy also reached for the weed Casper had extinguished in the ashtray, holding it with his left hand and reigniting it with the lighter in his right. 

"Just don’t go tryna make me ya ex." He instructed, his voice both serious and sullen. "I-I don’t know what I would do without you." Iggy honestly confessed, taking a drag of the joint. 

Casper stared into the cold blue eyes of the older boy sitting across from him. He didn’t speak and he wasn’t smiling, he just _stared_ at Iggy. 

"Alright CJ?" He asked, after not receiving an immediate reply. "That’s the fucking truth kid…you happy?" 

Casper’s deep dimples became present on his face, as the bright interior lights of his car’s dashboard illuminated his smile. He moved the hand that was still holding Iggy’s thigh up to mirror the hold the boy had on his neck earlier; and even though he despised being called that word, he let it pass just this once…just so he could say how he’d _really_ been feeling.

"I love you Iggy." He gushed, pulling at the long hair draped near his neck. "I’m _sooo_ happy I met you.” 

The kid’s sweet declaration sent a sense of relief through him. The eldest Milkovich had never really been in love, or really even understood the whole concept, but after meeting Casper, he was pretty sure he had found it. 

Iggy had found love. 

He cared for this kid in the same parental way he cared for his younger siblings; never allowing anyone to hurt them, and only wanting to see them safe. (Happy was a thing of rarity in the Milkovich House, but if you were safe, that _was_ your happiness). But Iggy also cared for Casper on a deeper level, a level of attraction, a level of _sexual_ attraction. And that was the thing, it was more than just the sex…it was him. 

It was Casper, everything about him. 

The shit was unexplainable, and he felt this weird warm feeling every time he tried. He figured it had to be love, Iggy _knew_ that’s what it was. They say you know when you know, right? 

Well Iggy fucking knew. 

"I love you too Casper. I would do anything for ya lil punk ass, kid." 

The younger boy began moving right in his seat, inching his forehead closer to Iggy’s temple to speak clearly into his left ear canal. “You’re gonna get enough of fucking calling me that.” 

"What you gonna do, kid?" Iggy challenged, putting the lit joint back out. "Shove ya finger in my ass?" 

Casper began laughing at the sarcastic tone in his voice, happy his boyfriend had emptied his hands. The passenger seat of his car was already let back as far as it would go, so without needing to adjust it any further, Casper hopped from his seat to straddling Iggy in his, all in about three seconds time. Their lips immediately found each other, locking together like magnets in lust. Though this moment was probably better suited with a more _passionate_ embrace, neither of the boys could escape the animalistic ways they were behaving. 

Without breaking their lips apart, Iggy had reached his left hand out to turn the car’s radio on, keeping the bass-heavy music barely audible in purpose of not disturbing a (hopefully) sleeping Liam. He then used that same hand to grab hold of Casper’s waist, forcing his fingers beneath the kid’s cotton shirt, with his right hand following quickly after. The younger boy forced Iggy’s mouth open, wrapping his soft lips around the boy’s tongue and lightly sucking on it’s wetness. Casper could feel the large hands holding onto his waist begin to maneuver downward, playfully creeping beneath the elastic band of his red boxer briefs. The touch of his boyfriend made the kid move his kiss right, pressing his lips against Iggy’s unshaven jawline until he had reached the boy’s neck. He would’ve continued trying to give him a hickey, had Iggy not moved his big hand from Casper’s ass to his neck, pulling them back face to face.

"You ain’t tell me why you love me." Iggy teased, pulling at the kid’s left earlobe with his right thumb and index finger. 

Casper smiled, placing a soft kiss onto Iggy’s thinner lips. “Why do you think I love you?” 

"I don’t know J." He looked down with a half-smile. "I’m asking you." 

It was still really dark in the car, and though he couldn’t see his face that well, Casper was pretty sure Iggy was blushing. He had never seen him look so shy, and it was seriously one of the cutest things the kid thought he would ever witness in his life. 

"Iggy, you’re li-" Casper stopped. 

4:35 a.m.

Casper was _interrupted_ , I should say.

The three taps he heard against the outside of his passenger window was enough to scare the hardness from both the boy’s growing cocks. It was Mickey knocking on the glass, and wether he had seen them or not was unbeknownst to Casper. The kid quickly jumped back into the driver’s seat, his weight causing the vehicle to shake slightly. With CJ back in his original spot, and both their clothes properly adjusted, Iggy finally let the window down, acknowledging his brother’s unexpected presence. 

"Aye Mick!" He tried playing it off as best he could, but ended up making it more obvious. "How you feelin’ man?" 

The younger Milkovich’s cold blue eyes were staring hard at his brother, and then shifted to stare even harder at the boy that had just gotten off of him. The closer he’d gotten to the darkness of the tinted windows, the better he was able to see through them…and Mickey had _definitely_ seen enough. 

He had seen _**too**_ much.

"Who the fuck is this?" He inquired rudely, his “K” tattooed finger pointing in Casper’s direction. 

Iggy didn’t immediately recall Mandy talking about Mickey’s memory being so patchy; but listening to his brother and looking at his confused face, the invisible lightbulb went off. He could also _smell_ how drunk his brother was, and so Iggy decided to have a little fun. 

Fun he knew would fuck Mickey up even further. 

He reached his hand out to grab hold of Casper’s thigh, and Iggy answered his little brother with both a sense of pride, and a big fucking smirk on his face.

"That’s CJ." He laughed. "He’s my boyfriend." 

To Be Continued…


	34. Fucking Psycho Of The Family

4:37 a.m. 

"Fuck you mean he’s ya _boyfriend_?” 

Iggy laughed, his left hand still gripping Casper’s lower thigh. “The fuck does it sound like, Mick?” His rhetorical tone mocking his brother’s confused one. 

Mickey didn’t immediately respond. 

Now that he knew his squinted eyes hadn’t just been fucking with him, he found himself flooded in a wave of confusion and anger; unable to speak, unable to breathe. But Iggy obviously couldn’t see his brother drowning, not with the careless way he just kept on. 

"Did you uh, need somethin’?" He laughed. "We’re kinda busy here."

"I-I…I just…I-" 

"You’ve been drinking, huh Mickey?" Casper recognized instantly, leaning up in the driver’s seat with both his dimples blithely displayed. 

"Fucking faggot, don’t smile at me!" He spat disgusted, Mickey’s reaction due to the casual way he was spoken to.

This kid didn’t fucking know him.

"Aye!" Iggy objected, completely taken aback by his brother’s retort. "What the fuck Mick?"

"Fuck that…"

The two types of alcohol electrically surging their way through Mickey’s system, weren’t exactly what was causing him to respond in such a vile and hostile manner. His Jack Daniel’s infused bloodstream (along with the Old-Style beers he was still burping up) was no real help to the situation…but it was definitely something deeper than his blood alcohol content, _way_ deeper. 

Yeah okay, Casper had smiled at him, even spoke like they were familiar; and although Mickey didn’t _appreciate_ the shit, that wasn’t the real reason either.

It was Iggy. 

All Mickey’s life he had felt so alone, so unaccepted, but all the while…he really did have someone he could’ve talked to? Iggy wasn’t a fucking shirk, he was his brother, his favorite brother truth be told, and he just didn’t understand. The eldest Milkovich was always fucking the brains out of some skank he had in his room, and Iggy was always trying to get Mickey to fuck her too. (He had this theory that his little brother was a virgin, and he wasn’t gonna be proved wrong until he saw otherwise). But now he was letting some _guy_ straddle him? Iggy was making out with him, calling this kid his fucking boyfriend and shit, and Mickey just felt… _mad_. Call it being childish, or him being a hypocrite, or whatever the fuck you will, but that’s what he felt. 

Mad.

If he’d had a better understanding of the strange dynamic of Iggy’s sexuality, Mickey’s annoyance with him might’ve slowly made it’s way back to the desire he had been feeling for Gallagher. If he knew his brother was still struggling to make sense of it all to himself, Mickey would’ve lightened up a bit. He didn’t know Iggy would only ever love this one _person_ though, and Mickey didn’t know he’d only technically been “gay” for a few weeks…all he knew was he was mad. He was mad, he was hurt, and he was fucking wasted. 

And so the younger Milkovich acted accordingly. 

"…fuck’s he smiling at me for?!" He continued, his cobalt irises looking past the passenger to size Casper up. 

"What the fuck’s ya problem Mickey?!" 

"Fuck you Iggy! What’s _my_ problem?!”

After the cold of Mickey’s blue eyes shifted to Iggy’s identical set, their glacial stare looking him up and down too (as if he had a fucking problem), the older of the two brothers had finally reached his boiling point. Iggy could almost feel the internal scald of his pounding heart amplify…and if it was a problem that his little brother had been searching for. 

Mickey had _definitely_ fucking found it. 

"I’ll be right back J." Iggy leaned in to whisper into the boy’s ear, sensing the obvious change in him. "I’m so sorry." 

4:41 a.m. 

With a firm grip on the back of his neck, Iggy ~~painfully forced~~ helpfully assisted Mickey further up the driveway’s cracked surface, until the giant shadow cast by the Milkovich house was secluding them both. (It was still dark and still windy as shit, but the bright streetlights kept things from getting too dark near the sidewalk). He pinned Mickey’s back against the cold metal fence squaring the perimeter of their house, his strength overpowering his younger brother’s, though Iggy didn’t posses the greater muscle mass.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" He demanded. Iggy had stopped yelling, but with his volume turned down, the lethal mixture of rasp and acid seemed to burn Mickey’s ears more proficiently. 

"Me?" His tone had too seized it’s anger, but in his case, was replaced by confusion. "The fuc-"

"Shut up." The demand was simple.

Iggy removed any and all space that was comfortably dividing the two boys, his left leg stepping between Mickey’s crotch, and his mouth leaning down to hover over his brother’s top lip. His left hand strenuously snatched him by his collar, Iggy’s strong grip wrinkling the soft cotton, with his right index finger forcibly pointing near Mickey’s left eye. 

His words were slow and indisputable, his jaw loosely clenched. “Don’t you _ever_ disrespect him like that again.” 

"Get th-"

“ _Ever_.”

Mickey was struggling against Iggy’s hold on him, thanksgiving to his slightly impaired senses and the adrenaline surging through the older boy’s blood. He was instinctively rejecting the grip his brother had on him; but the more Mickey refused to end his struggle, the more the reignited burn beneath Iggy’s chest began spreading. 

Spreading like fucking wildfire.

"Mandy told me about ya fucking memory or whatever, so how ‘bout you try thinking real hard!" It wasn’t really a question. "That _faggot_ is only here ‘cuz of you!” Iggy’s voice was now shouting dangerously loud (dangerous because of _where_ it was shouting), but he didn’t fucking care. 

Not right now. 

"Fuck are you talkin’ about?" Mickey asked the best he could, his tone still more confused than pissed. 

His ignorant response only fueled his brother’s internal flaming further. 

"You almost ruined his fucking life, is what I’m talking about! You played him like he wasn’t shit, and you fucking cheated on Gallagher doin’ it!" Mickey wiped the projecting salvia from his face, as Ian emerged into both boy’s peripherals. "I’m fucking surprised he even took ya ass back!"

"Iggy." The redhead calmly interjected, his bold intentions not meant to make matters worse. 

His presence definitely didn’t help though…it kind of worsened it. 

"Tell him Gallagher!" Iggy demanded, his head shifting to look at Ian and then right back to Mickey. "Tell his punk ass how much of a bitch he is! Shit, you’d know better than any of us!" 

"The neighbors are gonna hear you." 

"You think I give a fuck about that right now, Gallagher?" Iggy’s voiced shifted back to it’s acidic sarcasm, his hands finally letting go of Mickey, but only to take a threatening step towards this _unappreciated_ voice of reason. The sudden pull he felt on his right arm stopped him though…and Iggy could only respect it. 

Mickey was defending his Ian, just the same as he was defending his CJ.

"You saw that fucking scar on his face?" Iggy questioned, turning around to push Mickey’s arm off and pointing his finger back near his left eye. "That’s only there because of you!" (That ugly fact was true, no matter how _sexy_ Iggy thought it was). “I almost lost my fucking mind worryin’ about you in the hospital, Casper was fucking worried too…” His loud voice broke off, too distracted by his mind redisplaying the gruesome sight. “And then you come home like _this_?” Iggy scoffed, his calm raspy voice making his little brother feel like shit. “You got some fucking nerve Mick, I swear.” 

It was obvious to both Mickey and an onlooking Ian how much Casper meant to him. Mickey had only seen him this mad a handful of times, and Ian only knew Iggy as the quietest of them; the calmest of the Milkovich siblings…he didn’t know Mickey had such zealous competition for his well-deserved title. 

"Fucking Psycho of The Family." Ian joked to himself. But after hearing his boyfriend’s voice interrupt the eerie silence, the hidden smirk was quickly erased from his lips.

"W-why didn’t you tell me?" Mickey’s words were hesitant, not just slurred and sloppy because he was drunk. 

Shit, his fucking buzz was _long_ gone. 

"Tell you what?" Iggy spat back, acid and venom still secreting from his salivary glands. 

"About…you know." 

Mickey couldn’t actually _say_ the word, and so his brother misunderstood.

"We just met lik-"

"N-nah, man." Mickey cut him off, still unable to say it. "I mean like…" His eyebrow lifted, and his blue eyes shifted quickly from the ground back into his brothers’. He was quiet and then shook his head slightly, and Iggy finally got it.

"Whoa, I ain’t no fucking fag." 

Mickey’s head tilted sideways, and both he and Ian had the same look of confusion plastered onto their faces. 

What? 

Iggy had no problem denying it, he had a _boyfriend_ …that was as gay as it got. 

"Uhhh…" Mickey didn’t really know how to respond. 

"I mean, I get it…but you just wouldn’t understand. I-I fucking love that kid, you know? That’s all I can say." Iggy shrugged his shoulders, and didn’t bother trying to explain further. "You just better watch ya self Mickey, that shit was fucked up."

"I-I’m sor-"

"Fucking asshole, don’t say the shit to me." Iggy cut him off one final time, taking one final step in his personal space, and giving Mickey his one final warning. "Don’t ever fucking disrespect him again, you hear me?" His solemn threat was whispered coldly, sending raw chills up Mickey’s spine. "I’ll _never_ let you hurt him again.” 

"I-I fucked up man, I won’t do it again." 

Iggy backed up out of Mickey’s way to call Casper over, his voice suddenly not so cold. “CJ!” The red tail lights of the kid’s Audi cut off, and he appeared standing outside the open door of his driver’s side. “C’mere, man.” Iggy smiled, motioning him over with a slight tilt of his neck. 

Ian and the kid made their way over to the boys, each of them taking a stand at their boyfriend’s respective sides.

"Casper," Iggy welcomingly pulled him in, wrapping his left arm around the back of the boy’s neck. "Mick’s got somethin’ he wants to say…"

Iggy made a face. 

Mickey understood that face. 

"I-I’m sorry kid." He apologized, biting the corner of his bottom lip. "I’m sorry for everything." 

"It’s alright…you’ve kinda apologized before." Casper laughed, his pretty brown eyes looking up at Iggy. "Plus, if it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve never met him." He playfully nudged his boyfriend in the stomach, causing Iggy to lean in for a brief kiss.

Mickey was gonna have to get used to this shit…Ian thought it was kinda hot. 

"Oh." Casper continued, breaking their lips back apart. "Can you try your best not to call me that?" Iggy chuckled, he knew how annoying that word was to him. "That word _kid_ is so annoying.”

"Ha, alright." He laughed too, relieved his brother was in a more calm mood. "Casper." Mickey tested the name, he hated it. There had to be an easier way of saying it, something cooler. "Uh, can I just like, call you… _Caz_?” The shorter name suddenly popping into his head. 

Casper burst into laughter.

He didn’t really get a chance to answer, and not because he was laughing. The shouts of Iggy and Ian’s voices had cut him off, but it was fucking hilarious to the kid because they had yelled the exact same response. 

And they did it at the same exact time.

“ ** _FUCK NO_**!”

4:56 a.m. 

Ian and Mickey were in his room now, and as weird as it sounds, Iggy almost beating the shit out of him, had turned out to be kind of a good thing. The fact that Ian got to see Mickey in a moment that was so honest for him (without him actually having to speak to Gallagher), made him start feeling that much more comfortable around him. The redhead had lit up a joint he’d previously rolled (in hopes of resetting the mood), and he was laying up talking his usual shit, his shorter boyfriend standing beside their shared bed… _slowly_ undressing himself.

"You almost got ya ass whopped back there, Mick." He smirked, passing the joint with his right hand. 

"Ha, ha." Mickey forced a laugh, rolling his cold blue eyes at him. "Fuck off Gallagher." 

He lifted the joint to his mouth, puffing on it without the use of his hands, as he unbuttoned his blue jeans to work the baggy denim material off. 

"I think it’s good they got each other." Ian smiled, placing his hands behind his head. "I think they’re kinda cute." 

Mickey forced another chuckle through his nostrils, smoke expelling with the disapproval, as he tossed his jeans onto the floor and removed his dirty tube socks. 

“ _Cute_? That’s gay as fuck Gallagher.”

"Ha, whatever." Ian laughed, imitating Mickey’s same disapproving snort.

The older boy licked at the corner of his mouth, and moved to stub the joint out in the ashtray sitting on his wooden dresser. Mickey then turned back to Ian, lifting his t-shirt over his head and purposely (and _purposefully_ ) flexing his hard arm and abdominal muscles. 

"Are we cute together?" He asked flirtatiously, biting down on his lower lip and walking closer to their bed.

Ian got up on his knees and crawled to the edge of the mattress, reaching his right hand out to close the remaining distance Mickey’s lips stood from his. 

"We’re fucking adorable." He answered smiling, moving his open mouth in to remove the last few remaining inches.

Mickey didn’t hesitate, not one bit.

He immediately grabbed hold of Ian’s face, pressing their lips firmly together and swirling his tongue into the boy’s mouth. Mickey only quickly broke their kiss apart to get Gallagher’s fucking shirt off of him, but as soon as Ian was topless, he was thrown flat against their mattress top, his body being used as a human ladder for Mickey to scale. Once their lips were met again, their wild kissing didn’t subdue. Mickey began biting Ian’s bottom lip, pulling it out and away from his face, forcing the redhead to use the strength of his arms to lift his body up towards Mickeys’. 

The two them remained there for a long moment, their heads repeating a side-to-side motion with the occasional bite and pull of Mickey’s blunt teeth. It was weird…the more he kissed Gallagher, the more Mickey remembered all the times they had kissed before. He was high (so it could’ve been the reason), but Mickey’s body just kind of let go; it didn’t worry about feeling ashamed or demeaned, and it definitely didn’t fight the flow of blood rushing to his face. 

Or the blood to his dick, for that matter.

"Damn Mick." Ian laughed, his lower abdomen being stuck by the boy’s large boner. "You wanna take those off?" 

Mickey didn’t really know what to say in response, or even _how_ to say it. He guessed him and Gallagher talked a lot during sex; but instead of whispering a cheesy line plagiarized from some free internet porn, he just bit his boyfriend’s bottom lip again. 

Gallagher seemed to _really_ like that. 

With his bottom lip still being chewed on, Ian moved his right hand down to the small of Mickey’s back, placing his fingers beneath the waistband of his plaid boxer shorts, and using his arms’ strength to flip Mickey flat onto the bed top. The redhead had hold of both his boyfriend’s wrists, slowing working his fingers up the palms of his hands, until he could feel the warmth of tattooed hands lacing perfectly with his. Ian then used his nose to nudge Mickey’s head to the right, his soft lips finding their way to his neck to lightly suck on the pale surface, while taking care not to leave a visible trace of his mouth’s subtle suction. 

"Mmmm, fuck Gallagher." He moaned, his blue eyes shutting close. 

Mickey was responding positively, so Ian began working his soft sucking down the length of his boyfriend’s torso, his suction’s force increasing as he made his way further south…south to places where hickeys _didn’t_ fucking matter. He circled his tongue’s wetness around the sensitive nerves of both the brunette’s nipples, and then kissed his way down the firm middle of Mickey’s stomach, using the boy’s treasure trail as his assistance to the blood-filled hardness waiting on him. 

"Damn Mick." Ian cursed, removing the boxers his boner had been begging to break out of. "It’s been awhile." 

"Yeah, you look like you missed it." He looked down smiling, his tone enticing. 

Ian blushed, and Mickey laughed at the impulsive redding of his face, not really sure how he’d managed the words, but fucking ecstatic he had, because that look on Gallagher’s face was priceless. 

Fucking _priceless_. 

"C’mon Gallagher." Mickey challenged, biting his lip. "Show me what you can do with that." 

The redhead smiled. 

This was technically the second first blowjob Ian was gonna give to Mickey (just like at the baseball field with their second first kiss), so to ensure it would be one to remember…to ensure their second first time together would be something _**completely**_ unforgettable.

Ian reached into the top drawer of Mickey’s small wooden nightstand. 

"Whoa, what the fuck Gallagher?" 

To Be Continued…


	35. This Feel Better?

7:47 a.m.

There were bright orange rays of the morning sunlight peeking through the few select holes in the dark comforter serving as the blackout curtain for the window in Mickey’s room. He was lying up and on top of the blanket covering his shared bed, with his Marlboro Red burning shorter after each annoyed hit he took. He could feel the weight of his eyelids growing heavier with every slow second that passed, and although he wanted nothing more than to just lose himself in the relaxation of some stupid dream; Mickey couldn’t fall asleep if his fucking life depended on it.

It wasn’t Gallagher’s light snoring that was keeping him up, (or the fact that Ian was actually here with him). Having the redhead stay really kinda gave him this raw rush of tranquility, this calming peace he had never experienced…and Mickey _definitely_ didn’t have a problem watching the boy’s naked body sleep. 

He just couldn’t get comfortable. 

Mickey **COULD NOT** get comfortable. 

“Fucking bullshit!” 

“Mick?” Ian opened his green eyes, his nose immediately detecting the familiar scent of nicotine. He was lying flat on his stomach beneath the warmth of their cover, his big arms cradling the pillow his red head had just been fast asleep on. “What’s wrong?”

Mickey took another deep drag of his cigarette before responding. “Shit,” he answered apologizing, not meaning to wake his boyfriend, “my bad man, I fucking can’t get comfortable.”

“Have you been up since we finished?”

Mickey’s eyebrows raised as he shook his head “yes” in response, his lungs too full of smoke to emit actual words. 

“Put that out.” Ian directed through his half-sleep state, turning on his side and lifting the cover slightly. “C’mere.” 

It was obvious to him why Mickey had been unable to fall asleep, and the solution to his problem was simple. 

“Fuck off, Gallagher.” He laughed taking another hit, finding Ian’s soft cock just as enticing as his full hard-on. “That’s not gonna make me tired.”

The redhead lazily smiled at Mickey’s misinterpretation. “Not that.” He spoke, leaving the blanket up and yawning out the first part of his reply. “You just gotta come lay here…it’s where you sleep.”

Mickey waited for a moment, his tired blue eyes studying the confined region of this spot he _supposedly_ slept in. 

“I-I don’t know, Gallagher…”

He wasn’t naive to the fact that “here” meant sleeping right next to him, but Ian’s choice of words hadn’t really left him with clear enough directions, and Mickey’s first thought on how to lay was way too ~~gay~~ _embarrassing_ to try without more booze.

“Suit yourself.” The redhead yawned again, shrugging both his shoulders in indifference, and returning his big arms and head back to his waiting pillow. 

“Asshole.” Mickey thought out loud.

Gallagher was no fucking help, and it was pissing him off more observing how quickly the boy had been able to begin falling back asleep. Still feeling wakeful at almost eight in the goddamn morning, Mickey tried replaying Ian’s response in his mind (ignoring the dirty images of his cock this time), and he got this idea that maybe Gallagher could be right? As he tried focusing in on the risqué position his mind had previously resorted itself to, Mickey could almost picture the two of them in it…like he could almost _feel_ Ian already touching him. It was kinda weird (but now, not so uncommon), and although it was still nerve-racking to think about, let alone actually try doing…Mickey thought he’d give it a shot anyway. 

He had nothing left to lose.

5:04 a.m. 

“What?” Ian questioned smiling, his voice making Mickeys’ seem crazy for trying to stop him.

The older boy’s dick was still hard (and still waiting to be sucked), and though he was a bit skeptical, that infectious smirk on Ian’s face kept him from really showing it. “Jesus, Gallagher…” Mickey mused, his glacial irises shifting to the boy’s right hand. “The fuck kinda kinky shit you into?” He laughed, flirtatiously biting down on his bottom lip.

“Ha! Seriously?” The redhead laughed too, moving to stand at the side of their shared bed. “These are yours, Mick.”

As he grabbed hold of his boner being so rudely ignored, an amused snort came erupting from the boy’s nostrils. 

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m serious…” Ian laughed again, nodding his wrinkled forehead towards the wooden bedpost’s left corner. “You didn’t notice the other ones?”

Mickey’s blue eyes followed to where Ian’s green pair had looked past him, and lo and befuckinghold…Gallagher wasn’t lying. The older boy’s room was already rearranged in this new way he had yet to get acquainted with (and this was for sure a different mattress), but add the combined alcohols flowing through his bloodstream, the hypnotic marijuana rushing to his brain, with _the_ Ian Gallagher laying half-naked in his fucking bed…and Mickey had definitely had reason to be a little preoccupied to notice the metal handcuffs before. 

Funny.

The lewd items were actually a sort of amusement to him, because he really could imagine the cuffs belonging to him (and them even being his idea to play with), but fuck…was Mickey really ready to go there, and to go there with Ian _tonight_? It was gonna be their first time together since waking up from his accident, the first time Mickey would retain clear recollection of their sex…he wasn’t sure he was comfortable letting that side of himself loose, the side so intrigued by such _restrictive_ toys. After that, there would be no apology; no turning back.

No turning back for either of them.

“Gallagher…” His voice was hesitant and low, but his right hand began lightly stroking the hard cock still in his grip, his filthy mind painting filthier pictures of him getting to use the cuffs on Ian. “We’re not using those.” 

“Just calm down, Mick.” The redhead instructed smiling, taking a step back to remove his black Hanes boxer shorts. “Let me do what I want.”

'Fuuuck.' Mickey moaned inaudibly.

As his perplexed pupils began studying Gallagher’s nude form from red head to big toe, Mickey’s jaw literally dropped in astonishment; his reaction shaping the innocent smile on Ian’s face into that cocky smirk he ~~loved~~ hated to ~~hate~~ love. Ian could see how honest Mickey’s answer (or lack there of) was, and watching his boyfriend’s blue eyes eagerly scan him with such appreciation and awe…the redhead felt this sudden boost of confidence. 

Like his sassy little ass really needed it. 

“What?” Ian asked aggressively, titling his head up, and biting his bottom lip like Mickey always would. “Must like what you see, huh?”

The older boy laughed, immediately recognizing _he_ was the inspiration behind Ian’s response. “Yo…you’re a fucking tease, Gallagher.” Mickey shook his head like he was disappointed, his tone switching to match his playful reply. “Wouldn’t’ve expected that shit from ur kinky ass.”

“You know you like it.” Ian teased (like only a tease could), slowly running his left hand down the length of his abs, forcing his muscular arm to flex fuller with the enticing motion. 

Mickey couldn’t respond this time. 

He was too busy staring.

After meeting up with Gallagher at 3rd street (and not _technically_ breaking into the Kash  & Grab), he had slowly began getting used to the visible changes now present in the boy’s features. Ian’s dark red hair was cut in a shorter style, causing the smaller strands to appear a few shades brighter, and it also had this slight curl to it Mickey didn’t recall it having before, but truth be told…he kinda liked Gallagher’s hair _better_ this way. His face had obviously matured over the couple years Mickey’s mind was still struggling to recall, too. Ian’s jade green eyes seemed to gaze more intensely at him, and Mickey could’ve sworn some of the freckles previously covering his cheeks had disappeared. It hadn’t really been hard to get over everything though, this older version of Gallagher was, uh…nice. But it wasn’t his older face that had Mickey staring.

It was everything below.

Gallagher must’ve started working out harder than he had been before, the dark shadows defining the lines of his flat abdominals, and the size of his chest made that pretty fucking clear. Back at the baseball field, Mickey had actually gotten to cop a quick feel of Ian’s waist (after asking to check out his matching tattoo), but the soft glow cast by the full moon hadn’t allowed his blue eyes (or groping hands) a sufficient enough inspection of his _new_ body. Ian’s long torso was so lean, but still visibly hard to the touch, and each grouping of his muscles was decorated with a series of small red hairs and a pattern of tiny freckles. The younger boy’s firm shoulders bulged with (or without) being flexed, and Gallagher’s biceps were now just as big (if not bigger) than his too. 

Oh yeah…that was another thing.

Before meeting up with Ian, Mickey had stripped down in his quiet hospital room’s bathroom to change out of that bullshit _open-ass thing_ , and it was then that he had gotten kinda freaked out all over again. There was a slight aging in his own face and body that had clearly occurred sometime, _somewhere_ , and it was just… _weird_. Mickey’s arms were a lot bigger than he remembered them being (and his abs were looking way better these days too), and it had all happened without a single workout. 

Weird right?

But the only thing weirder than that, or weirder than the newest addition to his collection of tattoos; Mickey could’ve sworn his cock had gotten bigger. He knew his dick (it was his, after all) and it was definitely thicker than it used to be. The added girth was appealing and all, but truth be told…it was Gallagher’s cock Mickey couldn’t stop staring at. 

It was Ian Gallagher’s _everything_ that had him yearning for the boy.

“Just get it over with.” 

“What?” Ian responded laughing.

“The fucking cuffs, Gallagher.” Mickey motioned his head towards the item still in the boy’s grip. “Hurry up and do something, man…” He was basically begging, his right hand not seizing it’s stroke of his cock. “I’m horny as fuck.”

As he walked back closer to their bed to begin giving his boyfriend what it was he wanted, a more evil version of Ian’s smirk had replaced it’s wry twin.

“Stop.” He demanded, using his free left to yank a handful of the dark hair at the top of Mickey’s head. “I’ll take care of it.” Ian assured, whispering into his right ear, then quickly lifting the boy’s jerking hand away from his cock to securely connect with their bedpost.

“Sfff fuck, Gallagher!” Mickey moaned in pain, (and not because of his fucking hair being pulled). “That shit’s tight.”

“Hmmm…oh yeah?” 

Ian’s reply was flirtatious, as if Mickey had been referring to _something_ else. 

“Yeah.” He laughed, catching on to this joke just as fast as when Gallagher was mimicking him. “Would ya loosen this shit some…please?” Mickey smiled.

He was kind of surprised at how much more he was starting to like Gallagher, (and at how comfortable the two were around each other). Him being under the influence may have had something to do with it, but it was all beginning to make more sense to Mickey; _they_ were beginning to make sense. Gallagher was fucking hilarious…and he was so tall…and he smelled really good…his hair was _red_ …and he’d gotten that tattoo…and you couldn’t even tell he was into guys.

And whenever they were together, it was like…they _knew_ each other. 

Like they’d known each other forever.

“I guess.” Ian answered, licking his soft bottom lip and lifting his right eyebrow in reluctance, his flirtatious tone only making Mickey crave him more.

As he turned back to the nightstand to retrieve the handcuff key, Ian _purposely_ turned his body all the way around, his calculated move giving his boyfriend a perfect view of his ass; it’s muscular tone and suppleness teasing him in all the foul ways he’d hoped it would. 

Mickey had again found himself silent, his cold blue eyes marveling at the flawlessness of Gallagher’s backside. His ass looked so strong near the top, and as it’s curve graduated down and out, the firm flesh seemed to soften closer to the bottom; down where Mickey would soon find his way back deep inside him. The redhead knew how much the light, symmetrical shadows cast by the upper muscles of his ass turned Mickey on, so much so, that he could only imagine his boyfriend was appreciating such a convenient display; and judging by the investigating grip he suddenly felt cop the dual softness and strength of his left cheek…Ian was pretty sure he was right. 

“ _Daaamn_.” Mickey cursed in self-indulgence, his left hand shamelessly continuing it’s obscene examination. “You gonna let me get some?”

Ian laughed, turning his head back and downward to look at the boy violating him; but he kept his body positioned all the way around, his suggestive stance meant only to entice Mickey further. He waited for a moment, allowing the cold hand groping him to pursue it’s debut exploration, he then turned to quickly remove his solidly sculpted ass from Mickey’s possession, and leaned down to whisper into his ear a second time. 

“We’ll save that for later.” He promised. 

Fucking tease.

“Mmmm, stop.” Mickey tried objecting through his moaning laughter, his head tilting left and away from Ian’s lips. 

Somehow, (and he figured it must be because Gallagher was some type of nympho) Ian’s wet tongue managed to slowly lick it’s way up his earlobe until the boy’s teeth had begun playfully gnawing down the side of his neck; all while the redhead had been able to successfully loosen the too-tight handcuff, _without even having to look at it_. Shit, either they had used these things before…or Gallagher was just really good at fucking multi-tasking.

And really _really_ good with his hands. 

“Shut up…I know what you like, Mick.” 

“You do, huh?” He responded, smirking to mirror Gallagher’s sly smile; the same way he had been fucking impersonating him. “Then why the fuck’s my dick still not in ya mouth?” Mickey asked flirting.

Ian smiled rolling his green eyes, not at all surprised at the boy’s disobedience. 

Instead of responding verbally, the redhead placed his right hand beneath his boyfriend’s chin to pull Mickey’s face back close to his, the hasty action locking their chromatic irises back in sync. He slowly began leaning his face in closer, signaling he wanted to kiss, but moving leisurely as to not ruin the mood, (or wind up rejected). Ian was about halfway to his boyfriend’s lips when he saw Mickey’s free hand come darting at his face ~~and he just knew it wasn’t gonna be good~~. He instinctively closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, bracing it for the blow he was about to have to endure…so you could say he was _pretty_ fucking surprised to feel his boyfriend’s fingers suddenly pulling a full fist of the red hair in the back of his head, Mickey’s strong grip removing the remaining distance between them _way_ faster than Ian had anticipated. 

Now that he’d finally fucking done it, kissing Gallagher wasn’t really a big deal…the oral embrace actually kinda turned him on. 

Turned Mickey on in a **big** way.

“Don’t look so scared.” Ian smiled, momentarily breaking their lips apart to lock his boyfriend’s remaining left wrist in place. “You don’t trust me?”

“Shit, I trust you.” Mickey answered, his tone sounding honest. “But I ain’t scared, Gallagher… _you_ just be ready.”

Ian really had no idea what he was doing to him, being all demanding and forceful, and shit. Mickey didn’t know _this_ was the type of stuff they did when they fucked, but as much as Gallagher was turning him on…no matter how he tried denying it, Mickey would’ve been fine just sitting here with his music on. 

As long as it was Ian Gallagher listening with him. 

“I’m always ready.” 

“Yeah…we’ll see, Gallagher.”

Now that his cuffs were loosened (but Mickey was still feeling bold enough to keep talking his shit), Ian returned back to the top compartment of the wooden nightstand, and retrieved two _new_ items from the drawer’s mysterious inventory.

“What the fuck is that?” Mickey’s voice asked nervously, his ignorance to only _one_ of the objects the vocal producer. 

He didn’t get a response. 

“Gallagher!”

The redhead began flashing that evil smirk again, walking to stand at the foot of their mattress, and stopping once facing directly in front of him. “It’s lube.” He calmly shrugged. 

“No shit.” Mickey laughed at the stupid gesture, the even more stupid smile on his face, and Ian’s sarcastic tone he’d learned to just ignore. “I mean… _that_.”

Whatever _it_ was, it had this really weird shape to it (two curved handles at the bottom, with a slightly slanted top that kinda bulged out). The thing wasn’t so big, but it wasn’t that small either, and though he had nervously asked about it…Mickey was almost certain he knew what Gallagher wanted to do with it. 

Or _where_ Gallagher wanted to put it. 

“What, this?” Ian continued playing his dumb game, raising the thing higher and tossing the cylindrical tube of lube onto the bed. “This is yours too, Mick.”

Before speaking, the older boy waited to feel his own stupid grin vanish from his lips. He really wanted Gallagher to take him seriously, (but he was gonna have to lie) because Mickey seriously _did_ wanna try the toy in him… _especially_ if Ian was gonna be the one to put it in. 

“Don’t do that.” He naturally tried to protest, his tone doing a terrible job at remaining serious. Mickey figured Ian was gonna do whatever the fuck he wanted anyway (his drunken mind had realized that’s what the cuffs were for), so why even try pressing him further than that? Gallagher already wanted to shove this thing in his ass…he probably got off on that begging shit.

“How ‘bout you beg me not to?” Ian proposed, the evil smirk still present on his cocky little face. 

See.

“Fuck off, Gallagher.” Mickey smiled, looking down at his boner. “How ‘bout you suck my fucking dick already?” He was only mocking him, but the older boy was glad he’d said what he did. 

“Alright.” Ian calmly shrugged, his tone sounding just as simple as the gesture. 

He was still standing at the foot of their bed, so after tossing Mickey’s g-spot stimulator next to the bottle of lube, he decided it was easiest to just start from there; bending his back over to press his lips against the dark hairs covering Mickey’s left ankle, and using both his knees to crawl up the bed’s excessive length. As each of the light kisses was planted, Ian’s lips continued further up the sensitive interior of his boyfriend’s leg, his mouth keeping everything pretty sensual, until his tongue began lashing random shapes on the tattooed initials correlative to his first and last name. It wasn’t very loud, but Ian could hear his older boyfriend begin to moan a series of familiar curse words, and after finally opening his mouth to take Mickey’s (so patiently waiting) cock into his throat; those bad words he was moaning grew louder… _a lot_ louder. 

“Sfff, fuck Gallagher!” Ian must’ve felt bad for making Mickey wait so long, (or was him wrapping his soft lips down to Mickey’s pubes just a thing Gallagher did on the regular?) “That shit feels so fuckin’ good.” He cursed, clenching his jaw shut to try quieting himself down. 

In order to reply with clear diction, the redhead had to remove his boyfriend’s thick erection from out of his throat. “I told you…” Ian whispered seductively, pressing his lips against Mickey’s _low_ lower abs, while using his left hand to jack him off. “I know what you like.”

Fucking tease.

“Don’t stop, Gallagher.” Mickey’s voice moaned out, his cry sounding almost painful. He couldn’t handle anymore of his teasing. “Show me what else I like.”

Ian smiled biting his lip, and he again found it easier not using real words.

Rather than speak aloud, the redhead thought it more fun to open his mouth back wide, allowing Mickey’s hard dick deeper into his throat this second time; showing his boyfriend how much he had truly missed him…missed every inch of his alluring body. Each time Ian moved his head up (then proceeded to slowly lower it back down), his soft lips would glide over the vertical length of Mickey’s boner, his tongue tickling the rear of his shaft until the redhead’s throat had engulfed the entirety of his full erection. It drove him fucking crazy watching how deep Gallagher was able to suck him off, and with the opening of his green eyes and a slight turning of his red head, Ian was able to continue deepthroating him, while raising up on his knees to retrieve the clear bottle of lubricant. 

Fucking nympho. 

“Sfff, ahhh…” Mickey moaned, feeling the pad of Ian’s index finger massaging the colder-than-room-temperature lube in and around the rim of his tight asshole.

He didn’t like it. 

“Relax, Mick.” The redhead whispered, surprised at the boy’s resistance of his intruding finger. Ian tried salivating on Mickey’s dick and working the slick spit in with his free hand to distract him. 

It didn’t work.

He could feel the warm blood begin to rush from the thick cock he was jerking with his left, and it was amusing to him because this type of initial contact was always _usually_ arousing to Mickey; not something that got him soft. He figured it was just some funny side effect to his freak accident though, and like the odd patchiness of his memory…it too would heal in time. 

Bottoming was a mind-game, after all. 

“Mmmm, fuuuck.” Mickey moaned deeply, throwing his head back with his blue eyes shutting close. There was no place to run, so why try fighting it? 

“Mhm…just like that.” 

Mickey had begun heeding his young boyfriend’s advice, calming himself as quickly as possible and relaxing all his muscles _down there_. The feel of Ian’s finger had graduated from an intrusive mystery to a more routine pastime, but instead of Gallagher making his way in further (or slowly fingerfucking him), he had pulled out completely and reached for that crazy-shaped toy instead. 

“Yo, what _is_ that thing?”

“It’s new.” Ian laughed, not giving an accurate answer and using his thumb to close the lube’s circular cap shut. “And it’s gonna make you feel good.”

Gallagher was a fucking liar. 

The thing made him feel _great_. 

After the toy was thoroughly lubed and ready, Ian had wasted no time pressing it’s weird bulging tip against Mickey’s entrance, forcing the plastic in deeper until only it’s two curved handles were visible. It’s not like he knew it’s strange shape was constructed to immediately locate and begin stimulating his _special_ spot, but Mickey could definitely feel the rousing affects of it; his entire body growing sensitive to everything around him, and his deep breathing becoming more quickened and shallow. It was almost like he was weightless, like this thing shoved up his ass had sent him shooting directly towards the Sun, and with his internal temperature rising…the sweat beginning to seep from his pores was about as eminent as the return of his throbbing boner.

“Fuuck.” Ian cursed in wonder, his left hand taking another hold at the base of Mickey’s cock, his right index slowly circling the pre-cum leaking from him. “When’s the last time you came?”

“Mmmm…sfff…I-I…” Mickey shook his head as he moaned, his teeth only releasing the hold of his bottom lip so he could _try_ answering back. “I-I don’t, mmmm…f-fucking know.” His entire body had begun lightly trembling, his words more slurred than before with his brain feeling _way_ too fuzzy to focus. 

The redhead laughed at his boyfriend’s reply, happy to see the toy working so well. “Just tell me when.” He kindly ordered, kissing next to his soft bush of pubic hair. “I wanna see you cum.”

Again with the fucking teasing? 

“F-fuuck, Gallagher…un-cuff me now man, I-I think I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Don’t do it yet.” Ian instructed, his lips beginning to kiss their way up Mickey’s crotch. “It’s too late for another round.” He joked.

“Sfff fuuckk, then s-slow down.”

Gallagher’s mouth felt just as good pressing flat against his stomach as it did swallowing down his dick, and as both the redhead’s big hands scaled up the matching tattooed and non-inked sides of him, the light digging of his fingernails was bringing Mickey closer to cumming. Ian obviously gave no fuck about his request though, his soft pink lips continuing their quick journey up the hard muscles and pale skin that made up Mickey’s torso. The younger boy stopped only after arriving into the comfort of his lap, straddling his boyfriend and placing both hands’ four fingers on the opposite sides at the back of his neck. He didn’t require the use of either hand to perfectly position Mickey’s still-hard cock between the hairy crack of his ass, and as he began kissing the boy’s fuller set of lips, all Mickey could think was how much he liked Ian Gallagher. 

Even _if_ he was a fucking nympho. 

Though his cold set of blue eyes had closed during the course of their heated kiss, Mickey could feel Ian reaching his left arm out for something, (and he thought it had been for the key to unlock him). Instead, he was caught off guard by the familiar popping sound he heard, and even more surprised to feel Ian rubbing that colder-than-room-temperature lube all over his cock. 

“Galla-”

“Shhh.” Ian cut him off with a whisper, lifting up in Mickey’s lap a little higher to lube his asshole just as good. 

Was Gallagher doing what he thought? 

“I think you might like this better.” He whispered again, his left hand keeping Mickey’s thick boner still so he could slowly lower himself down onto it. 

He was.

“Mmmm, h-hold up…” Mickey tried stopping him while moaning, his hard cock twitching in the firm grasp of Ian’s hand as he spoke. “I grabbed a pack of rubbers from the Kash & Grab.” 

“We uh,” Ian couldn’t help his laughter, but this shit was legit killing his mood, “we don’t really use condoms, Mick.” He informed him with a slight shake of his head. “Not anymore.”

“You fucking serious?” 

The redhead smiled at the concerned tone of his voice. “Calm down.” He laughed again, readying himself for the first few inches. “You’re gonna be fine.”

5:41 a.m.

It was quiet in their room, and Mickey kinda regretted not turning his radio on back when he had the chance. What the fuck was going on? What the fuck was Gallagher _doing_? Both his thumbs were rested on either side of Mickey’s face, and while his left had initiated a slow stroke at the scratchiness of the boy’s jawline, Ian was moving in a slow up and down motion; taking the entire length of Mickey’s cock deep into his hole, but staring hard into his icy blue eyes as he continued riding him. And because this wasn’t that same kinky Gallagher he had anticipated, he didn’t know what else to do…so Mickey just stared back.

He could’ve stared at him all night. 

With his long fingers still strategically placed on the back of his boyfriend’s neck, Ian lowered his brow down onto the surface of Mickey’s corresponding area, resting pale forehead against pale forehead, with their pink lips hovering dangerously close. He stayed there for a long moment, moaning heavily and taking loud breaths as he basked in the pleasure Mickey’s wide cock provided him with…pleasure his asshole had been missing for the past few days. Ian then lifted his forehead away from Mickeys’, his lips quickly replacing it’s presence; lightly lying puckered against the boy’s brow until he began making his way lower, slowly pecking a trail of gentle kisses down the middle of his face, passing between his closed eyes and kissing the tip of Mickey’s nose an extra two times. Gallagher then (finally) reached for the key that would unlock the handcuffs, and freed his wrists just in time for Mickey to climax. 

Literally.

“Ahhh, sfff fuuuck, Gallagherrr.” Mickey moaned deeply, using the strength of his arms to flip Ian onto his back. That weird toy had managed to stay shoved up his ass, but Mickey didn’t mind it; he’d kinda fallen back in love with the feeling. “I-I’m ‘bout to fucking cum!” He stuttered out almost screaming, his entire body trembling in ecstasy. “W-where you want it?” 

“Wherever you want, Mick.” Ian jerked himself as he watched his boyfriend do the same. He usually hated cum on his face, but even it was fair game tonight. “I don’t fucking care.” He moaned…he was about to cum too.

Gallagher had said he wanted to see it. 

Now he was getting his fucking wish. 

“Mmmm, mmmm, fuuuuuuuck…” The older boy had spit on his dick to lube it one last time, stroking only the head of his massive cock until his hot load shot all over Ian’s abs, the streams of white cum crashing down hard on his muscular stomach. 

“Shiiit, Mickk.” His boyfriend’s cum was so warm, and Mickey’s balls were still unloading onto him as Ian fired his own load high into the air, his thick pools of semen landing on his abs and mixing with Mickey’s cum. “Ahhhhhhh.”

Ian couldn’t remember the last time he had this much cum covering him…and Mickey couldn’t remember the last his body had managed to cum this much.

“Damn, Gallagher.” He exhaled deeply, his right hand reaching around to pull the toy out of his ass. “Yo, you’re a fucking freak.” He smiled, biting his lip.

Ian knew he meant it as a compliment. 

“Uh, thanks?” He jokingly laughed, looking down at the two samples of DNA covering his torso. “Shower?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with his tone making it sound like a question. 

“You mean like… _together_?”

Ian got up from their bed still laughing, the cum dripping down his body as he stood to his feet. “I mean, unless you wanna wait ‘til I’m finished.” His tone switched to a known sarcastic, sending an enlightening chill up Mickey’s spine.

It was then that he realized he couldn’t keep getting scared around Gallagher all the time, not if they were gonna be living together….and they _were_ gonna be living together. Mickey wasn’t letting him go anywhere; not without him. 

Not even to their fucking shower. 

“C’mon, Firecrotch…” He called after him, his body inching closer to their bathroom’s open door. “It’s only right I’m the one to wash _my_ cum off you.”

7:49 a.m.

It felt ~~wrong~~. 

No. It felt ~~weird~~.

Okay…it felt _good_.

Mickey had mustered up the courage to position his body in the awkward way his brain had told him to, backing his ass into Gallagher’s crotch beneath their bed’s comforter, and allowing the redhead’s muscular arm to hold onto him. And as gay as it sounded…it felt fucking good to be spooning with him; to be spooned by him. The younger boy had warmly welcomed Mickey’s smaller body in, moving to reposition himself on his right side and stretching his left leg over the bottom portion of Mickey’s adjacent shorter ones. It was still really quiet in their room, (and he would’ve preferred it stay that way this time around) but of course…Gallagher just _had_ to open his mouth and fucking comment. 

“This feel better?” He whispered softly into his ear, his tone seductively warm. 

Mickey was just relieved he didn’t have to actually _see_ Ian’s face to reply. 

“Y-yeah, I guess…but just don’t blow ya hot ass breathe in my face when we wake up later, aight?”

Ian laughed at his response. 

Typical Mickey Milkovich. 

“I love you, Mick.” He gushed normally, not realizing the potential harm of his words until after he’d said them aloud.

Ian didn’t get a verbal response, but he did feel his boyfriend’s body move in just a _tad_ bit closer; and it was all the retort the redhead needed. Mickey was just content being here…being home in his bed, and being able to share it with Ian Gallagher. Maybe he wasn’t ready to say the words out loud, but at least he knew Ian felt the same way. 

At least Mickey knew Gallagher loved him back. 

To Be Continued…


	36. Hardheaded. a.k.a Stupid In Love.

Spooning, right?

That’s what the shit was called?

Main entry: Spoon /spo͞on/  
Present participate: **_spooning_**  
verb - (of two people) lie close together sideways and front to back with bent knees, so as to fit together like spoons.

Guess so.

Though it was defined as _informal_ , it seemed to be the only way Mickey was able to fall asleep now; sideways and front to back, with Ian Gallagher tucked in close behind him. He had to feel Gallagher there…he _needed_ him there. The warmth of his body, Ian’s big arm and long leg snaking their way around him…they made Mickey feel small, but not weak, just…small. The loud beating of his heart and the warm air whistling from his nose; it was the calming tune that serenaded him to sleep, its rival the sweet scent of Gallagher’s red hair ~~and Mickey fucking hated coconut~~. But it was almost like he needed that too, to smell him here, it let him know this wasn’t all just another one of his crazy Gallagher sex dreams…that he could actually feel _this_ in the still of his South Side bedroom. Ian’s scent was here because _he_ was here, meaning Mickey wasn’t alone…he would never have to be lonely again. But if he felt all these things, if Firecrotch had all these crazy holds on him…why couldn’t he just fucking say it? And say it _**out loud**_.

If only it were that simple…if only those three words came as easy as spooning with him. It was like an endless battle raging on inside of him, his heart going toe-to-toe with his head. He would’ve done anything for Ian, anything to see that stupid smile on his face…though lately he’d found the use of his actions easier than honest words. But Mickey wasn’t naive. With every kiss and every blowjob, he knew it still wasn’t good enough…not if he wanted Ian to know he loved him for more than just sex, because that was it; he _did_ love him.

And if Mickey had been on the fence about it before…he definitely felt the sting of it waking up to an empty bed. There was nothing worse than waking up and not having Gallagher be there.

_Nothing._

“W-where you goin’?” He didn’t wanna come off as desperate, but Mickey was sure that’s how it sounded. _Desperate_.

“Shhh…” Ian whispered from their bathroom, his hand reaching around the doorframe to turn off the light as he exited. “Sorry, I was tryna stay quiet,” he apologized. “Go back to sleep.”

He was already fully dressed, his toned chest being shown off by the plunging neckline of a graphic print tank top that displayed his biceps just as tauntingly. Gallagher had been in the mirror, hands perfectly adjusting the beanie atop his head, and as Mickey gazed upon him through the sober lenses of morning, his stomach began to flip – somersaulting for the near six feet of flawlessness that towered before him.

It was always easier to deal with ~~lust~~ life after a drink or a joint…but that was another thing he wanted changed. He _hated_ numbing himself in order to feel.

To feel anything.

“Where you goin’?” He asked again, the latter not as hesitant, but more like Ian was hiding something.

Yep, _definitely_ desperate.

“I gotta go to school.” He answered more clearly, moving toward the bed he had left him alone in. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, just gotta finish finals.”

It was June, the start of summer, the month _Mr._ Ian Clayton Gallagher was to become the second of his siblings to receive his high school diploma. Math had thoroughly whopped his ass, along with every other subject he had passed (or _just_ in some cases) but he’d done it. He was no Lip when it came time to hit the books…but he had fucking done it.

And he did it without throwing a chair through any of his classroom windows.

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“Just a couple hours, Mick.” He laughed, having to repeat himself. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” they were allowed to leave once all tests were done, “but chemistry fucking sucks.”

‘Chemistry.’ Mickey thought to himself. It definitely did – the brute magnetism more so than the branch of science.

“I-I’m happy for you, man.” And he was. Milkovich kids weren’t really required (nor encouraged) to go to school, and Mickey couldn’t imagine sticking out four years of _that_. “I didn’t pass anything my freshman year.”

“Yeah,” Ian laughed again, his right hand reaching out for the older boy’s face, “I know.” Leaning down to kiss his forehead, he could feel Mickey’s eyebrows raise beneath the soft brush of his mouth. “I lo-” He stopped…then hurriedly pressed his lips back to the spot. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Smooth.

As he watched Gallagher quickly exit their room, Mickey had only himself to blame. Over the past few days, Ian had stopped using the _“L-word,”_ and it was undoubtedly because he’d grown tired of not hearing it returned. Mickey knew his intentions were really meant only to keep _him_ comfortable, but he could see it was affecting Gallagher too, and it was just stupid. This was supposed to be _fun_ , the shit was supposed to be _easy_ …instead, they’d been walking on fucking eggshells around one another. The exception being sex, of course, when they were too weightless to even see straight; high off their dirty love.

Mickey remained in the bed for a long moment, replaying their conversation, beating himself up because the perfect opportunity had darted right out the door with Ian. “Fuck.” He cursed, now completely wide awake. He took a look around the room while stretching both arms over his head, and then irritably arose to go piss and brush his teeth. He wouldn’t be falling back asleep anytime soon…not without Gallagher.

Not without his spoon.

A “couple” hours later…

Jealousy?

Was that what it was?

Main entry: Jealous /je-ləs/  
Abstract noun: **_jealousy_**  
adjective - feeling or showing envy of someone’s success, advantages, etc.

Uh, maybe?

They looked so carefree, so oblivious to the harsh realities that were meant to engulf them; drown them as deep as Mickey had drowned for so many years in the past. His blue eyes were fixed towards the tattered couch, his pupils wild and that of a predator – anxiously studying its weaker prey. He examined close as the lean form moved closer to the thing that was no more than a blur of shame to him, his lips moving closer until they were whispering near its chocolate brown strands of hair. “You fucking suck,” the raspy words were voiced, followed by sounds of laughter penetrating Mickey’s ears, and a sight he still had yet to grow accustomed to. “Sorry I don’t fucking play video games all day…like _somebody,_ ” came quickly firing back, fueled with sarcasm and spoken after the breaking apart of lips. Mickey’s ears had somehow managed to filter out everything but the noises coming from his living room, and as he watched and listened closer…it was all becoming more clear to him.

_This_ was why Iggy kept the kid around.

“Don’t be mad, punk.” Casper was only pissed this wasn’t the gym. “’Bout time you ain’t good at somethin’.”

“Whatever, fuck this game.” Mickey heard a light thud, and though he couldn’t _see_ the table, figured it was the Xbox controller he heard hit the glass. “Show me how to do that trick again.” The kid was mumbling because of the joint (he’d obviously traded the controller in for) between his lips, and Iggy would’ve denied the request, had he not next bore witness to the brief and explosive death of his paratrooper.

So much for _two_ players.

“Aight, watch close,” he obnoxiously huffed out, leaning forward to set his controller down and reaching for the joint, “for the millionth fucking time.”

Instead of just passing the damn thing, the kid ignored Iggy’s advancing hand, helpfully lifting the joint to his mouth for him. “Shut the fuck up,” he laughed, igniting the Bic’s flame since he’d not ceased lighting it. “Not everyone learns as quickly as you do…or as _willingly_.”

Gross.

It didn’t take a genius to get he wasn’t talking about video games anymore, but it was funny hearing the kid’s voice annunciate each of the syllables as he spoke them. He was super clean and all proper, and shit, but he was still a fucking asshole; one to rival even Iggy himself…and it was kinda weird.

~~He kinda reminded Mickey of Ian.~~

“Shit, you wish you learned s’quick as me.” Iggy flirted back, inhaling his first hit and then skillfully taking another. “Now pay afuckingttention this time.”

The eldest Milkovich liked to show off when he smoked, and although he’d mastered a multitude of tricks learned from his hookah, the only stunt Casper was striving to learn was one not even Mickey could manage – blow a smoke ring out, then a smaller one through it, then finally inhale both rings through the nose. Iggy had been trying to teach him _all_ morning, first with the bong and then with a pipe (both attempts ending horribly), so maybe using a joint this third time would make the difference?

Or not?

As he again began instructing the kid, Mickey was sure it was jealousy he was feeling; jealous at the comfort and ease of their relationship, and jealous of how shameless the two were. His mind kept reverting back to the images of them in that car, and to what Iggy had said to him. _“[He loved the kid and it was all he could say].”_ It wasn’t until now that Mickey understood his oldest brother’s meaning, now that he could actually _see_. It was the way they would look at each other…and how different (but still so similar) they were…and how effortless it was for them to just be themselves. Iggy loved the kid…they were in love, but it made no sense to be jealous – Mickey already had this.

Well…he _could_.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thought? Maybe it _didn’t_ matter. If you loved someone…all you had to do was say it, right? What Mickey thought of himself shouldn’t even matter.

Maybe the only thing that mattered was what Gallagher thought of him?

“Better.” Iggy sneered, observing the minor progress Casper had made. “Now you gotta blow another one through it.” He demonstrated once more. “Maybe try doin’ it slower…”

The kid was getting the hang of it. He’d managed to actually blow the second smoke ring through the first, but as he moved on to try inhaling them through his nostrils (while focussing hard on not swallowing the remainder of smoke still in his mouth), he began coughing; the same outcome that would result once Mickey had reached this step. Seeing the familiar fuck-up made him laugh (a thing he wasn’t consciously aware of), as Iggy had again started laughing too.

The trick really was hard as fuck.

“Hopeless.” Iggy continued laughing, his head turning to look back over the couch and into the Milkovich kitchen. “You fucking deaf, or what?”

Mickey’s eyes quickly turned from the two boys he had been studying, the smile on his face fading as he hoped to not be caught staring, (though he and Iggy’s eyes had unfortunately met for that _awkward_ spilt second). A moment passed and he could feel his brother’s anxious stare still burning a hole into him, so Mickey figured it would’ve been more suspicious to _not_ answer.

“Huh?” He asked, lifting his head back up while trying his hardest to play it off.

“You’re done.” Lip chimed in, having called Mickey’s name three times after cutting the clippers off. “Check it out.”

His _FUCK_ stamped fingers raised the handled mirror until the embarrassment on his face was again displayed in its reflective surface. “Oh shit,” he cursed, still trying to play it cool. “My bad.”

Mickey glared skeptically, his charcoal pupils darting back and forth while his head had adopted a similar side to side motion. He ran the pads of his tattooed fingers over the now both trimmed _and_ stitch-free feel of his scalp; examining each strand of hair making up this new style. Lip had generously volunteered his _lip_ in exchange for the guarantee Mickey wouldn’t hate it if he let him cut his hair, and though his barber abilities hadn’t been proven until _after_ the cut was underway...it looked as if the older Gallagher’s face would remain _as is_.

This time around, at least.

“Y-you sure it looks alright?” It didn’t look _that_ different. Both sides and the back had been trimmed low, gradually fading out as the hair reached Mickey’s sideburns and neck, respectively. The top had remained full and untouched, but because of his scar’s directionality, the rear had taken on the appearance of an _almost_ mohawk. His new cut was a little more intricate than he would’ve preferred, but Mickey figured this was better than the alternative (parading around with a goddamn bald spot), so until the hair around his scar had time to grow back in thick enough…he was gonna have to get used to this.

“What’s wrong, Mickey?” He knew he was being purposely patronized. “You worried Ian won’t like it, or what?”

“Fuck you, _Phillip_.” He spat back, and though he was positive his _boyfriend_ should’ve had him too preoccupied to be listening to them in the kitchen, Iggy was snickering at what Lip had asked. “And fuck you too, _princess!_ ” Mickey shouted at him, getting up to sweep the hair no longer attached to his head, and kindly returning the middle finger his older brother had saluted him with.

“How’s everything goin’ with you two anyway?” He was blindsided by Lip’s prying, so it took Mickey a second to conjure a clever enough reply.

“Shit…he’s sleeping here every night, _ain’t he?_ ” The not-so-subtle change in him was maniacal. “What’s it to you?”

Mickey had never penned Lip as the nosy Gallagher. His question was both surprising and unsettling, but more so a splash of cold reality to his face – an icy reminder his ugliest closet skeleton wasn’t much of a secret these days.

“Mandy told me about the hospital, what happened when she went ba-”

“Mandy?!” He screeched, stopping Lip mid-sentence. It was all beginning to make more sense. “She needs to mind her own fucking business, me and him…I-I alre-”

“No, you’re probably right.” Lip agreed laughing, cutting Mickey’s explanation short because he had misunderstood his inquiry. “Let me rephrase…how’s everything goin’ with _you_ , man?” His voice, though speaking with an air of blissful humor and acceptance, stood too compassionate for comfort. “You took a pretty hard fall…”

The skepticism once directed towards his haircut was now being shot at Lip, Mickey’s cold eyes glaring into the icier blues of the older boy. His face…there had always been something about his face…something Mickey _never_ trusted. Maybe it had been paranoia, or the fact that every time he spoke, it was a slick comment filled with  big words; ones spewed to show how much smarter he was…how much higher Lip had placed himself upon his pedestal. _Fuck that_.

“I’m fine.” Mickey responded dryly.

Two could play that game.

Lip waited for a moment, staring back at him with no trace of humor left in his face. A hybrid emotion of anger and refusal had instead plagued his facade, slowly altering his features until each appeared as honest as his intentions. He (for once) looked sorta serious; like he actually meant what it was he was saying, or like he expected Mickey to respond saying… _something_. Either way it was still uncomfortable as fuck – and as his chin titled up and his lips parted to speak, Lip’s voice vocalized even drier than Mickeys’ had been. “Good.”

The older boy’s lifeless reply was about to make him respond, when…hold up.

Was Lip _manipulating_ him?

Main entry: Manipulate /məˈnipyəˌlāt/  
Present participate: **_manipulating_**  
verb - control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly or unscrupulously.

Yep, that’s what he was doing…sneaky son-of-a-bitch. But although Mickey was aware of his manipulations, they had still managed to work. For some reason…he felt like he could talk to Lip.

Like he could (for once) trust him.

“I’m kinda worried…” Mickey began, pissed because he knew the fucker was gonna think he’d outsmarted him.

“Worried about what?” Lip retained his emotionless tone, and it made it easier for Mickey to respond to him. It was almost like talking to a stone wall. The wall would never judge you. _It couldn’t_.

There was no fear in talking to stone.

“I mean, it’s good he’s graduatin’ and all, but…I-I don’t want him to leave and go to some college. I like shit the way it is, ya know?” Mickey felt so ~~gay~~ saying it out loud, and to Gallagher’s brother at that. But it was true; his ugly truth, and it’d been fucking tormenting him.

“You tell him that?”

As the cold in his blue eyes lowered it’s attention to the small mound of hair he was sweeping, Mickey shook his head “no.” His reply, or lack thereof, left him open for dissection – an analysis of the fear and misery hidden deep beneath his surface; deep beneath his core. It was obvious his angry exterior was but a mask, permanently hardened for the masquerade that was his life, but one Lip had managed to peel back with his scalpel-sharp sense. Something (if not an assortment of _things_ ) was eating away at him, and so he didn’t mind attempting to ease the unknown pain.

Mickey was his brother’s everything.

“Probably shouldn’t worry, man,” Lip suggested, his voice breaking to finally emit some character. “Ian never was big on school,” he laughed, his words’ validity the jest. “Chemistry especially.”

Despite the hair being piled as neatly as possible, or the pride he got from already knowing something about Gallagher, Mickey’s eyes didn’t look up as he responded. “Then why keep goin’?”

Lip shrugged, that answer was simple.

“Army.”

It might’ve just been because of his paranoia…but hearing only a one-word reply sounded more _accusatory_ than it did _informative_. “And I fucked that up for him,” he snarled, speaking as if to finish Lip’s sentence. “Fucking say it.”

Mickey didn’t sound whiny.

He sounded ashamed.

“Ian left, you didn’t force him.” Lip was speaking calmly, his purpose to keep their conversation from traveling into the living room. “I’m not gonna lie…I warned him about the wedding shit, told him to just stay away.” It seemed a near lifetime ago as he recalled the _odd_ disappearance of his brother. “Ian’s…”

“Hardheaded.”

“Stupid in love.” Lip synonymized, his alteration wiping Mickey’s lips clean of their thoughtless grin. Fuck, _seriously?_

_Again_ with the fucking mood swings?

He was either hot or cold, accepting of the truth or not (and his bipolar attitude was one cut from the same unstable cloth as Monica's). And like Monica, Mickey was a hurricane, one that had come storming into Ian’s life; causing beautiful devastation and crumbling his walls to nothing. But instead of brutal winds and raining skies, his destruction brought light to Ian’s life – _purpose_. And although the boy’s ambience gave his little brother a smoke-free high…it was beginning to give Lip a fucking headache.

“Just take care of him. Take care of yourself, Mickey.” His voice indicated their conversation had reached its end, but Lip’s words were still more parental than anything Mickey could recall Terry ever _spitting_ at him. “You two’ve been through enough together.” 

Mickey got what Lip was really trying to say – _you’ve already put him through enough_ – but as he opened his mouth to try defending himself, he was rudely interrupted before he had the chance.

“Yo, you better check ya hair one more time, Mick,” Iggy called, still talking shit from the couch, “I think they’re back…”

The sounds of two car doors slamming shut were loud bouncing off the glass windows in the living room, so Mickey found it wise to heed the acerb advice, swiftly exiting before he could hear the front door’s creaky hinges echo in the tiny foyer. (If Gallagher _did_ hate his new haircut, he didn’t want anyone else to _see_ that he did). 

Before doing so though, he had to quickly turn around and fire back at Lip…because for once in his sarcastic ass life...he was wrong.

“And it’s just easier for him, it always has been.” Mickey had one distinct memory burned into his mind; fueling the scorch of his shame. A punch to the stomach…a kick to his face…Ian’s reward for bearing his soul, for wanting to be met halfway – **_just this once_**. Never again though…Mickey would never be so scared or stupid again. “But he’s not stupid, I fucked it all up.”

“What ar-”

“It don’t matter, you’re wrong.” He cut him off as he proceeded through the living room’s open doorway. “He’s not stupid though…because I felt the same way,” and he didn’t care wether Iggy or the kid heard him, “I always have.”

Lip could only smile.

‘Douchebag.’ He laughed to himself.

_**Nervous?** _

Was that wh– _oh fuck it_.

Mickey didn’t need a fucking definition, he _knew_ he was nervous as fuck. He couldn’t decide what to do, or _where_ to fucking do it at. Should he be fixing his hair in their bathroom when Gallagher came in? No, too obvious. What about just sitting on the bed and staring at the door? Fuck, even worse. He could hear that laugh, Ian’s absurd laughter, and he knew it meant he was getting closer. _Shit_. Without giving it a second thought, he ran towards his tall dresser and began rummaging through its top shelf. His back was to the door as the knob began to turn, and it seemed like forever before he finally heard that voice.

_His_ voice.

“Aye Mick, I-” Ian’s train of thought veered smooth off its tracks, his face lighting up as his eyes confirmed they hadn’t just been fucking with him. He’d walked right past Lip and the small pile of hair in the kitchen…so you could say this was a _pleasant_ surprise. “You cut your hair.” He raved through a smile.

Turning around, Mickey was reminded why his heart rate had already doubled its usual beat per minute…why it was almost like he got starstruck whenever Gallagher came around. Ian had played the lead in so many of his fantasies in the past, but this was _real_ life…and it wasn’t 2010 anymore. He just seemed so perfect, and it was intimidating to be around because it went beyond his looks, (though those were cinema star perfection as well). Gallagher _finished_ high school. Wether he was a genius or not, that was a big fucking deal around here; and though he could never enlist for the army again, _the one thing he’d worked all his life for_ …he was still here.

And still putting up with Mickey’s shit.

“Hey man,” he spoke as if he hadn’t just come running from the kitchen, “y-yeah…ya fucking brother did it.” His shoulders shrugged as he fumbled with the t-shirt he’d retrieved for an alibi. “If you hate it, you can just say so.”

As Ian took one _large_ step to close the small gap separating them, Mickey had to remember to breathe. He hadn’t had anything to drink or smoke all morning but a blue Gatorade and a Marlboro Red, and it was on purpose. He didn’t want to _need_ anything else; not anymore. Softening up was way easier said than done, but this would be a start, and he would be fine…he had his Firecrotch.

Gallagher was the only drug he needed.

“It looks really good.” Ian combed his long fingers into the uncut hair at the crown of Mickey’s head, gripping and tugging at the longest strands before moving his fingertips to trace over the scar prompting his new cut. “You feelin’ okay?” He asked, green eyes sparkling with his fingertips still gently stroking.

Mickey _hated_ when anyone else asked him about his head, not Ian though…it was special when Gallagher asked him. Everything was special when Gallagher did it.

“I’m good,” his eyes looked down as he bit his bottom lip, “still gotta wash it though…put some shit in it.” Mickey’s attention had turned to the gold chain around Ian’s neck, his voice sounding distracted as his thumb reached up to grab for it.

“ _Style it_ you mean.” Ian smiled, his sarcastic voice speaking low because of how close they were.

What a fucking ball-buster. It was bad enough Gallagher knew he was anal about his shampoo (Mickey would rather screw Lip than use that coconut shit that dried out Ian's red hair), but that was another thing he’d learned since they came back home together – they knew _a lot_ of shit about one another.

“Go fuck yourself, Gallagher.” Mickey laughed, releasing the gift he’d given him. He had gotten kind of bashful, and when that happened…sex was his go to. “Maybe we could do it now?”

Ian raised a single eyebrow, his left hand moving to rest on the back of his boyfriend’s neck. “You wanna go get a lil’ dirty first?” His tone _wasn’t_ enticing.

Wait…did Gallagher miss the hint?

“Uh, that a _fucking_ euphemism?”

“No,” Ian laughed, his cryptic reply confusing Mickey further, “and yes.”

“Gallagher, what the fuc-”

Ian interrupted him in the best way possible, his face leaning down with his lips quickly finding their way to the older boy’s fuller set. They stayed there for a moment, lips pressing against the softness of the others’ before Mickey’s mouth parted slightly to try biting Ian’s bottom lip. He let him, obviously, but then stopped because he knew _exactly_ where this would end…and that’s _not_ the thing Ian had planned for them.

Not right now, that was.

“You’re confusin’ me, Gallagher.” He bit his own bottom lip as his blood began to rush; Mickey’s familiar itch needing to be scratched. “We gonna fuck or not?”

The redhead smiled, grabbing hold of his hand to lead him towards the door.

_Guess not_.

“Just c’mon, Mick…I think you’ll like this.”

To Be Continued…


End file.
